by Ben Hammott
Cleveland stepped back from the door. “It kinda hard to miss, it's a bloody big 'un.”
Thumping footsteps approached the door.
“Everyone back,” ordered Colbert.
The men retreated from the door but kept their eyes and weapons aimed at it.
A loud crash rang out when the monster struck. The force was enough to buckle the door slightly and send vibrations rippling along the floor, walls and ceiling.
As if in competition to the noise, another crash came from the medical room.
Colbert glanced behind. “Ramirez, Sullivan, check it out.”
The two men rushed back along the corridor.
The remaining men gazed at the damaged door.
A loud snort that sent a jet of misty breath through the breach was followed by a scraping sound and then a large eye peered out at them, glowing brightly in the reflected flashlights aimed at it. A thick black tongue snaked through the gap and waggled at them, as if it tasting their scent, before being pulled back inside its owner's mouth. The eye disappeared from the gap and heavy footsteps moved away from the door.
Cleveland let out a relieved sigh. “Thank God it's gone.”
“What do we do now, sir?” asked Crowe.
Colbert glanced behind at the approaching footsteps. The concerned expressions worn by Ramirez and Sullivan did not bode well. “My first reaction was to head back the way we came, but something tells me that not's going to be possible.”
“The wreckage in the corridor shifted and blocked the opening. There's no way we can go back through,” Sullivan reported.
Thundering footsteps that grew louder with every thump pounded the floor.
All faces swiveled to the door.
The beast's pounding footsteps didn't slow when they grew nearer. As if a silent command had been given, the men took a few steps back. The sound wave from the powerful crash sped along the corridor and thumped against the men. Metal screeched like it was screaming in agony when the two halves of the door bowed worryingly. The beast responsible pressed its face in the gap and growled at them before it turned away and loped back along the corridor.
“One more hit and it'll be through,” stated Cleveland, his voice a little higher than normal.
Colbert looked at the only exit left to them. “Open it,” he ordered.
Cleveland rushed to the door as the thumping footsteps started up again. As soon as he had made a gap wide enough, Ramirez and Sullivan forced their fingers in and pulled the two doors open. Ignoring the pungent stench that assailed them again, the men filed in.
When the beast struck the door a third time, one of the doors blasted free and sped along the corridor. Colbert pulled Ramirez to his knees a moment before the door skimmed over their heads.
Ramirez shot a worried glance at the approaching beast as he rushed through the opening and Sullivan and Cleveland pushed the doors closed after Colbert had stepped through.
The beast that was the size of an adult rhinoceros, just as powerful and twice as vicious, stared at the closed doors when it skidded by. It turned sharply, letting its back legs slide around into the wall, which shook with the force of its collision. It moved back to the door, nudged it with its powerful armored head and snorted angrily.
The men on the other side watched the double doors bow slightly when the beast pressed on it. Though it didn't have the long run up like before, none of them doubted the beast's capability to force its way inside.
Sullivan nudged Colbert and when the man turned, pointed his light at the nearest cocoon. Things moved inside. The forms of imagined horrors pressing against the interior walls of the leathery sack pulsated, as if something within breathed.
Colbert turned to his men and put a finger to his lips. If they didn't disturb whatever nightmare dwelled within the hanging pods, they might make it through the room to the exit he hoped lay on its far side. He nodded for Sullivan to lead the way.
The foul substance covering the floor squelched beneath their boots and set free a fresh wave of eye-watering stench with every step. That and their shallow breaths were the only sounds they made as they moved through the maze of narrow alleys that twisted between and around the grotesque, horror-filled piñatas.
The beast turned away from the entrance and forced its bulk between the partly open doors leading to the medical room. They screeched in protest as they juddered along the beast's rough skin and curled back from their runners and crashed to the floor. Looking neither left nor right, the powerful beast strolled lazily across the room and turned when it reached the far end. It lowered its head, snorted like a bull facing down a matador, and charged.
*****
Praying for a soft landing, Richard sped down the chute. He dropped into nothingness and gasped when something cold engulfed him. Foul, rancid sludge, thick as lumpy yogurt, slivered into his mouth until he clamped his lips shut. He clawed his way to the surface and dragged air into his lungs only slightly less foul than the putrid ooze he had fallen into.
Fearing the tentacles might be searching for him, Richard glanced around the foul chamber. A soft, blue glow highlighted the surroundings he took in at a glance. He was in a pool set in the middle of a long, vaulted room. Though there seemed to be some kind of machinery dotted about the floor and along the walls, all were covered in a thick carpet of mould with strands of growth tipped with tiny claws that constantly undulated. Thick metal columns, entwined with blue glowing vines festooned with red, barbed thorns, rose from the pool to reach the ceiling. The same vicious vines also trailed down parts of the walls.
A disgusting sucking and slurping put Richard's danger radar on full alert. He cautiously turned by paddling in a circle to reluctantly discover its cause. Before he even laid eyes on what made the sound, he knew it wouldn't be good. The shiver of revulsion that ran through him on seeing it was strong enough to send ripples across the thick sludge. Richard froze, lest he be detected by the grotesque slug-like creature that slithered down a short flight of steps and along a path away from the pool. The monstrosity emitted a sickly green glow that highlighted its grotesque pale form. It was difficult to work out if the mass of tentacles that surrounded the Lovecraftian horror were part of it or loyal worm-like followers. The pustules that adorned the creature's glowing skin constantly pulsated and with each throb a dribble of white, pus-thick liquid oozed from their tips. Richard couldn't imagine that a more grotesque or eye-offending monster existed on any other planet in all the universes that might exist. Staring at it had the effect of looking through night-vision goggles at a gigantic deformed glowworm with terrible acne. As Richard saw no sign of Talbot, he assumed the man had already been consumed by the Slug Monster.
Though Talbot was still alive, he was certain his death wasn't very far away and he would suffer the same horrific fate as Jenkins. He had witnessed his friend being fed into the monster's mouth and chewed by the thing's sharp teeth when he was dragged out of the vent. Because the tentacles wrapped around him squeezed tighter when he struggled to free himself from the monster's grip, he had stopped, hoping they would loosen if he remained still and acted dead. So constricted was his chest, it was difficult drawing each breath. As the thing moved and entered a tunnel, he was raised higher, allowing him to peer over the grotesque creature. His eyes searched for Richard, worryingly his only chance of rescue, and when he saw the man he locked eyes with him. He was well aware Richard wouldn't risk his life rescuing anyone, especially someone responsible for dragging him into such a foul place; however, the weapon, and just as important the light attached to it, would be something he would need to stand any chance of escape. If Richard came after them, he might be rescued in the process. Unable to scream or speak due to the tentacle that had smothered his mouth to silence his terrified screams, Talbot nodded his head as much as the living restraints would allow and darted his eyes at something pinned to his side by the tentacles wrapped around his body.
Just before the monstrosity Richard watched in loathin
g disappeared into a side turning, Talbot appeared above the foul creature. When the man's fear-filled eyes locked with Richard's and he indicated something at his side, Richard's eyes flicked to the object the man desperately wanted him to see―the rifle and flashlight.
Richard moved to the edge of the foul pool of porridge and dragged his gunk-covered body onto a level floor covered with a thin layer of the foul slush that filled the pool. Most likely the runoff from the pus he had noticed seeping from the Slug Monster's repugnant body. He nearly gagged on remembering he had swallowed some. Fighting the nausea that might turn out to be a losing battle as he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, Richard climbed to his feet and looked at the foul substance covering his hands. A few tiny worms, sensing something breathing, wavered in the air towards his mouth. Richard shivered involuntarily and quickly scraped them off on the edge of one of the steps that led up to the slightly higher level recently occupied by the Slug Monster. He slipped off his jacket, heavy with the sludge that covered it and filled every pocket, and dropped it to the ground. He shook his re-soiled hands as clean as he could and removed as much of the gunk as was possible from his face and hair and looked both ways along the room. To his left, a wall blocked the way. Vine-entangled pipes or cables that ran along one side of the room turned up the wall and disappeared into the ceiling. There wasn't even a hint of a door or an exit. The only direction left open to him was past the turning the foul creature had disappeared along.
Richard approached the side turning and stared at the faint, green glow highlighting the wall from around the corner―an indication the monster hadn't strayed far. Worried he wouldn't survive long without a light and some sort of weapon, Richard sighed and entered the tunnel.
After a few cautious steps, Richard stopped and stared at the boot protruding from a mound of mustard-brown feces. A similar line of disgusting dollops stretched out in a row following the Slug Monster's route, evidence it passed its waste on the move. A closer inspection revealed the foot was still inside and slowly being devoured by the small worms he had encountered a few moments ago. As Talbot was alive a moment ago, Richard guessed the military boot had to belong to Jenkins. Hoping to find the dead man's weapon amongst the scraps of ejected clothing within the shit trail, Richard used a foot to hesitantly probe the disgusting mess and fought back the vomit that threatened to spew forth again, this time from the eye-watering stench his reluctant search threw up. When he failed to find the weapon, Richard suspected it probably fell into the pus pool when the man was dragged down the chute and was now lost forever.
Richard moved deeper into the passage, stopped at the corner and peered around the edge into the chamber the Slug Monster had made its home. From its position, he now knew the slug and the tentacles were joined. It hung upside down from tentacles latched onto the ceiling like a grotesque chandelier fashioned from a design straight out of Lovecraft's weird imagination. The head of the thing didn't vary much from the rest of its body, except for short tentacles that grew from around its mouth and eyes―thankfully, presently closed―and waved in the air in some macabre dance routine, twisting around and caressing each other. A ripple of flabby skin travelled the length of the monster's bulky body with each breath it took and each exhale produced a wheezing, rumbling snort. The thing was asleep. The smell the creature reeked of reminded Richard of the one and only time he had gone fishing. His friend, who had convinced him what a great sport it was, had opened a container filled with wriggling maggots and shoved it under his nose. The foul stench that had invaded his nostrils then was a similar smell, albeit the stench that invaded them now was much stronger.
Richard's eyes searched for Talbot―well, for the weapon mainly, but as the two were connected last time he saw them, he thought if he found one the other wouldn't be far away, and Talbot would be easier to spot. However, there was no sign of either. Thinking the man might have been devoured as a pre-nap snack, Richard searched the ground around the monster for any evidence the man had been eaten or the weapon that may have slipped from his grasp. He again found no sign of either, and careful to time his movements to coincide with the Slug Monster's snores to cover the sound, he took a few cautious steps nearer Sleeping Ugly and noticed Talbot's boots poking out past the monster's far side. A few more snore-timed steps brought the soldier into view. Talbot lay on the ground held in place by tentacles that entwined his body. With his eyes watching the hanging monstrosity in case it awoke, Richard moved closer and knelt beside Talbot. The man actually looked relieved to see him. It wasn't an emotion Richard experienced very often, if ever. Richard gripped the butt of the rifle and pulled, but stopped when the tentacles squeezed the weapon and their victim tighter.
Talbot shook his head desperately as he struggled to draw another breath through his partially smothered nose and flicked his eyes at his feet. Deciphering the signal, Richard examined the man's boots and noticed the knife strapped around one ankle. Though a tentacle was wrapped around the sheath, the handle was free. A gentle tug saw it transferred to his hand. Richard showed it to Talbot to let him know he had it, and then examined the three tentacles holding the weapon in place. He assumed, as soon as the blade started cutting, the monster would awake to find out the cause of the pain and viciously retaliate when it saw the human holding a knife stained with its blood. He would have to be super quick if he was going to cut through all three, grab the weapon and kill the monster before he became its next victim.
As Richard held the knife above the first tentacle, he wondered how tough they were and if the knife would be able to cut through them. As soon as he made the first cut he would be committed; there would be no second chance. Two of the worm-like tentacles were about two inches across and one about four. Sweat poured from his brow. His hands shook and fear of failure and his resulting painful death almost stopped him. The thought of wandering through the ship unarmed and in darkness persuaded him he had to take the risk. The knife moved closer until it was almost touching the thing's flesh before Richard jerked it away. He looked at Talbot, who stared at him pleadingly to do it. Certain the monster would be upon him before he had cut through the first ghastly limb, Richard stood and backed away. Self-preservation forced him to alter his plan. A few steps positioned him in front of the monster's grotesque rippling body. Hardly believing what he was about to do and before fear changed his mind, he raised the knife clutched in both hands, plunged it into the monster's flesh and dragged it quickly down its vile body.
The monster screeched and its eyes sprung open and looked at Richard as soon as the blade had pierced its flesh. When tentacles darted out to seize the attacker, they released their hold on the ceiling. When the monster flopped to the floor, its innards burst from the rip in its body with a loud, squishy, slurp wrapped in the foulest of stenches.
Blood, gore and all manner of foul excrement sprayed Richard as he dodged away and slashed at the tentacles groping for him. When he was tripped to the ground by the mass of slithering, slippery innards beneath his feet, tentacles grabbed his legs and hoisted him into the air.
The Slug Monster, that seemed unaffected by the loss of some of its internal organs, climbed upright, turned its many eyes upon its attacker and bared rows of sharp, chomping teeth. The tentacles around its mouth danced frantically as they stretched towards the prey.
Though more terrified than he had ever been before, Richard stared at the vicious mouth the tentacles planned to feed him into and bent his body to bring the knife in range of the nearest tentacle gripping him. He slashed out, but only managed to scratch it. Another tentacle snatched the knife from his hand and threw it across the room. Dangled above the gaping mouth eager to receive its attacker, Richard was horror-stricken by the Slug-Monster's obvious intention. He placed a hand either side its jaw and grabbed hold of two small tentacles, which protested vigorously and tried to shake his grip free. Other smaller tentacles wrapped around his wrists and pulled. The ones he refused to let go of snapped. Thick, white, goo oozed from
the stumps he dropped into the monster's gaping maw.
As he swayed back and forth over the teeth-lined cavernous mouth, Richard realized there was no escape for him now. This would be how his life would end. His body would be chewed into bite-size chunks by a monster maggot from another world. Who could have predicted such a thing? Soon he would be nothing more than a brown stain on the sludge-covered floor. He closed his eyes and hoped the monster would bite through his neck to give him a quick death. He sobbed in terror as he was lowered towards the waiting teeth and felt the warm, waft of the monster's foul breath wash over his face.
Gunfire echoed around the chamber.
The monster's painful shrieks quickly followed.
Richard opened his eyes when he was thrown across the room by the tentacles that had discarded him to fight off the latest threat. Richard struck the wall hard and fell to the floor. Slightly dazed, he watched blurred flashes light up the foul room.
Talbot cursed Richard when he left him at the mercy of the monster. He should have known better than put his hope in the cowardly man. His accusing eyes followed Richard until the sleeping monster's ugly form hid him from view. A tearing noise that followed Richard's cowardly flight was in turn followed by an unholy screech, a gruesome slurp and a wave of stench that surprised him almost as much as the monster crashing to the ground. When the tentacles that imprisoned him as secularly as any caged cell uncurled from his body and left him free, he rolled away and climbed to his feet. Fearing the monster would realize its mistake and the tentacles would return at any moment, he aimed the rifle at the monster's grotesque form and sprayed it with bullets. The monster writhed in pain and its piercing shrieks were almost as deafening as the gunfire. Talbot rushed past the Slug Monster and almost slipped on the slimy mess of offal that had slipped from the long gash in its stomach. Richard had to be responsible. He glanced at the man he now thought he might have misjudged sprawled on the ground. “Richard, it's time to leave.”
