Torment of Tantalus

by Bard Constantine

  He didn’t complain.

  Just when he felt he would pass out from sheer exhaustion, Guy held up a clenched fist, allowing the group to stop. Michael collapsed at the base of a dark, vine-enshrouded tree and snatched the canteen from the clip on his belt. The water was warm and tasted flat. It was the best drink he ever had.

  “Roll call.” Blackwell spoke between gasps. “Everyone here?”

  The others looked near as fatigued as he, breathing heavily on shaky legs. Their sweat-slicked, wide-eyed faces appeared torn between weariness and shock. Besides Guy, the only other person who didn’t look physically wasted was Damon. He stood straight with his arms folded and his forehead only slightly damp.

  Hayes panted like an overheated dog, leaning against a nearby tree for support. “Looks like everyone made it.” He shook his head. “I…recognized some of those faces. Jesse, Mike…they were part of the squad. Some others were part of the ship crew. What the hell happened to them? We’re in over our heads, man. How do we fight against things like that? What kind of place is this?”

  Guy continued to scan their surroundings as if he saw threats invisible to the rest of them. “You can expect things to get more and more unnatural from here. Aberrations don’t improve. They only get worse as the distortion increases. So don’t get comfortable. Those jellies are sentinels, and won’t stop scanning the terrain. We can’t spare no more than a few minutes at most.”

  Blackwell’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know so much about Aberrations, Commander? You’re talking as if you’ve seen one before.”

  “I have.” Guy’s eyes glinted in the shadows. “Many times.”

  “That’s not possible. According to Michael’s reports, no one has that kind of experience, except—”

  “Except Wardsmen. The last line of defense, fighting a battle the rest of humanity doesn’t even know is being waged.” Guy folded his arms, scanning the group as if assessing their strengths and weaknesses. “Michael is right. And since we all have to trust one another, I’m going to be honest. I am a Wardsman. The Wardsman who shut down the Aberration at Michael’s mill, among many others. And if any of you want to survive, you’ll do exactly what I say.”

  Chapter 13: Preternatural Snafu

  Nathan watched the group’s reactions waver between disbelief and morbid curiosity. Damon stepped in front of Blackwell with his sidearm pointed at Guy’s face. The others had their hands on their weapons as well, though most looked uncertain at best. Elena placed an arm against Nathan’s chest as though trying to protect him, eyeing Guy as though he were a poisonous snake about to strike. Nathan understood the sentiment.

  It had been that kind of day.

  Guy’s stance was relaxed, greeting the hostility with casual indifference. “I really don’t think you want to shoot the one person who knows what’s going on.”

  Blackwell motioned for Damon to lower his pistol. “How the hell is that possible? What happened to Commander Steele?”

  “Died on a mission, decades ago. I commandeered his identity into my collection to use if needed.”

  “Did you kill him?”

  Guy raised an eyebrow. “No. But does it matter?”

  Blackwell shook his head. “I guess not. So you’re him. The mystery man Michael claimed saved him from the last Aberration.”

  “That’s right.”

  ” Our recruits are rigorously vetted. How’d you manage to get through so easily?”

  Damon’s heated gazed slid from Guy to Blackwell. “Are you serious? This guy completely subverts our security, infiltrates our inner circle, and you’re admiring his methods?”

  Blackwell shrugged. “That one’s on you, Sid. You’re the one who recruited him. Besides, look at around.” He spread out his arms.

  Nathan’s shoulder blades automatically clenched when he looked up. The jungle seemed to be sentient, growing even as he stared at it. The light was grainy at best, just flickers that occasionally cut through the canvas of tangled gloom. Vines drooped down in serpentine fashion, seemingly eager to seize someone. The humidity was nearly overbearing. His shirt was drenched, and beads of sweat trickled down his legs. He sucked in a lungful of thick, damp air.

  “This is hell, people.” Blackwell’s grin was maniacal. “The place where nightmares come alive. And it’s up to us to stop it. I don’t think we can afford to turn down any helping hands right now. “

  Skepticism etched across Chen’s face. “So you’re telling us we have to trust this guy? How do we know he’s not running some game on us? He could be a part of this whole thing.”

  “He’s not.”

  Everyone turned to look at Michael, who stood slumped with a resigned look on his face. “Look, if anyone knows, it’s me. I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for Guy. He…knows about these things. He’s been fighting them for a long time.”

  Charlie Foxtrot gave Guy a curt nod. “So, what—you some kind of super-soldier or something?”

  Guy’s mouth quirked. “Or something.”

  “All right, cool.” She patted her rifle. “That means you lead the charge, right? Tell us how this shit goes?”

  “If you do what I say, you might live.”

  “Works for me.” She glanced at Chen, who gave a rueful shrug.

  “Whatever. This is crazy, though.”

  Blackwell rubbed his hands together. “Anyone else have a problem with it?”

  The rest of the squad eyed one another, but no one said anything. Blackwell nodded.

  “Then it’s settled. What now, Guy? Where are we going?”

  Guy turned to Michael. “Do you feel it?”

  Michael exhaled a heavy sigh, wilting under the chorus of stares. “We have to go that way.” His finger pointed the direction.

  Guy confirmed it with a nod. “Right.” He slung his rifle over his shoulder and unsheathed the machete strapped to his side. Without further comment, he hacked his way into the brush. Damon and Blackwell followed closely behind before the others fell into single file behind them.

  Nathan turned to Michael. “You can feel the source of the Aberration. Just like the samples I had you pick out. You selected only samples collected from Aberration sites every time, without fail. Somehow you’re attuned to them.”

  Michael nodded reluctantly. “I guess. I didn’t know why you kept having me do that. But you knew the whole time, didn’t you?”

  “It was a theory. But you proved it correct. I just can’t figure out how you do it.”

  Michael frowned when he looked around. “Doesn’t matter much now, does it? Not with Guy here. I haven’t seen him since the mill explosion. I spent all this time wondering if he was even real or not.” He paused. “He’s different now. Changed.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Last time he was confused, like his memories came and went. But like he said at the hotel—that’s all over now.”

  “Well, that has to be a good thing, right?”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not sure.”

  Nathan nearly tripped on a thick tree root. “What?”

  “I don’t know. The look in his eyes, like he sees things we can’t. Almost…alien.”

  “Alien?”

  Michael shook his head. “Hard to explain. You’d know what I mean if you knew him before.”

  Elena clapped Nathan on the arm. “You guys want to pick up your step? We’re falling behind.”

  He looked up in alarm. The group ahead of them was several yards away. Their figures were blurry silhouettes in the haze of fog and steam that curled around them as if vented from the damp soil.

  Michael voiced what was already in Nathan’s head. “This isn’t natural.”

  “Natural?” Elena held her rifle at ready, the muzzle swiveling at shapes in the fog. “What the hell is natural in this place?”

  “Keep close.” Ariki had stripped to a sweat-soaked tank top. His brown arms were knotted with heavy muscle, appropriate for the massive machine gun he toted. Nathan d
idn’t know much about firearms, but he was sure it was meant to be mounted on a Humvee or helicopter. Ariki hefted a bulky pack on his back as well, filled with what Nathan assumed was ammunition for the metallic beast of a gun.

  “That’s right, ladies.” Lurch Davies squinted and spewed cigar smoke while talking. “Step lively. Don’t wanna get lost now, do you?”

  “Hey.” Nathan peered over Lurch’s shoulder. “You’re taking up the rear guard, right?”

  “Yeah. So what?”

  Nathan’s pointed at a moving shape behind him. “Then what’s that?”

  Lurch pulled his revolver from the holster under his arm, and in one fluid motion turned and fired a single booming shot. The hazy figure twitched and dropped without a sound.

  Nathan jerked back at the casual act of lethal violence. “Hey…what if that was—?”

  “If it ain’t us, it ain’t friendly.” Lurch strode over to the body for a closer look. His mustaches twisted in revulsion.

  Nathan approached hesitantly, curiosity overcoming his apprehension. The others shouted questions, but he could only concentrate on the hideous corpse lying at his feet.

  It had the appearance of a wet raw chicken, if a chicken were the size and shape of a man. The skin was pale, glistening in the dim light. The limbs were mostly tightly stretched tendons, the bones jutting, the veins dark and distended. Worst of all was the creature’s face.

  There was none.

  The skin on the head was smooth as an egg, with only the faintest semblance of bone structure, hinting at a visage that barely pressed against the vein-riddled membrane. A massive hole disfigured it even further, courtesy of Lurch’s expert shot. Pale, wriggling insects erupted from the cavity: oversized cockroaches, centipedes, earthworms and spiders. They covered the immediate vicinity by the thousands, pouring from the corpse as if they would never stop.

  “What the hell is that?” Hayes stumbled over, his eye wide and mouth ajar. “No. Don’t tell me. I don’t wanna know.”

  “It’s an Other.” Michael peered into their hazy surroundings, ignoring the insects that wriggled over his boots. “They don’t appear alone.”

  “What are you saying?” Hayes’ fingers visibly shook as he tightened his sweaty grip on his rifle. “There’s more of these freaks out there?”

  Ariki turned and shouted at them. “Incoming!”

  The mist came alive with silent, gangly creatures. They sailed through the fog as though weightless, their limbs jerking in exaggerated motions. The surging sensation of ravenous hunger that swelled from them was nearly overwhelming.

  Ariki’s machine gun erupted with reverberations powerful enough to vibrate Nathan’s chest. The nearest attacking figures simply exploded from the barrage. Wriggling insects fanned across the group, spattering across faces and showering down on their hair and skin.

  The others joined in; Hayes screaming, Lurch cursing around his cigar, Elena kneeling and firing steadied shots. Muffled retorts rang out yards away, audible proof that the other group was engaged with the Others as well. Nathan couldn’t even see them anymore. The fog was thick and heavy, a swirling blanket of adulterated white that unleashed obscenities from within its maw. Something rolled from the mist, bouncing across the rocky terrain to land against Nathan’s boot.

  It was Sergeant Chen’s head. His eyes bulged from the sockets, seemingly staring up at Nathan in horrified shock. Nathan backpedaled, stumbling as he retreated from the grisly display.

  The sound of harsh cawing erupted as hundreds of ravens exploded from the branches. They attacked the Others with a ferocity Nathan had never seen in birds, ripping and tearing with beak and claw. The Others flailed and fell in complete silence, scrabbling across the ground on severed limbs, still trying to seize and pull down the human party.

  Michael stood in the middle of the chaos, his face frozen in a deranged snarl. He held twin pistols at the ready, but never squeezed the triggers. His eyes were glazed, as though he saw something beyond the macabre attack. One of the Others swept past the circle, its elongated fingers stretched toward him…

  Nathan remembered his handgun. In a series of clumsy motions, he managed to rip it free of its holster and raise it with shaking hands. Even then, he didn’t dare fire. The Other was too close to risk an errant shot. He stood as though frozen, fear coating his limbs like heavy frost, paralyzed as the Other grabbed ahold of Michael’s arm with a pasty, claw-tipped hand.

  It disintegrated.

  It seemed to melt before Nathan’s eyes, crumbling into the fog like a mass of dying embers. It made no sound, but Nathan thought he heard a plaintive shriek echo in his mind.

  Michael didn’t appear to notice. The pistols dropped from his hands and he lurched forward, ignoring the shocked warnings from the rest of the squad. He walked as if sleepwalking, away from the protective circle and into the thick of the mist. The rest of the Others shrunk back, circling around him as they dashed past. He ignored them as he stumbled in the haze. The ravens followed, disappearing into the fog, their raucous cries muffled as they vanished.

  “Michael!” Nathan’s voice rattled in his throat. He knew he couldn’t follow. They were pressed in by pale, wet flesh-bags, each and every one thirsting for blood. The Others died in complete silence, bodies torn to pieces by the close-quarters fire. Bullets thrummed through the air, the muffled echoes smothered by the thick fog.

  Clouds of pale, wriggling insects floated in the air around them, nearly thick as the mists.

  Nathan gasped when inhuman hands seized him from behind. He twisted in desperation, struggling to pull back against the surprising strength of the gaunt Other. The vein-riddled, faceless head jerked forward, and Nathan reeled from the surge of voiceless whispers that assaulted his ears. He planted the pistol against the Other’s skeletal, pockmarked chest and pulled the trigger. The flesh exploded in chunky wads.

  A torrent of beetles poured from the gaping wound.

  Dull, colorless bodies covered Nathan. He staggered backward, flailing, unable to see, trying not to scream. He heard the clicks of their hard-shelled forms, felt thousands of bristly legs crawl across his head and face and into his clothes, their pinchers nipping his skin. He stumbled and fell into more insects, a flood of scuttling forms which only grew thicker as the corpses of the Others struck the ground. His eyes squeezed shut, his lips clamped together, muffling his panicked grunts. Viscera spattered across his face and slicked his hands. His lungs broiled, his chest felt on fire. Still the insects swarmed, until it felt he would drown under their creeping, rustling bodies.

  Strong arms caught ahold of him, yanked him up from the mass, swatted at his clothes while insects fell off like a nauseating kind of rain. His chest heaved as his breath collapsed from his lungs. His legs felt like rubber, and he would have fallen again were it not for Ariki’s supportive grip. Elena’s voice sounded distant in his ears. Her face was streaked with insect guts. He tried not to focus on the half-crushed caterpillar that slid down her neck.

  “Breathe, Nate. Just breathe…”

  “Just breathe?” Hayes’ voice was incredulous. “Are you kidding me? More like, man the hell up.” He slammed his hand into Nathan’s chest. “Look at you. We’re here fighting for our lives and you’re flopping around in a pile of bugs.” His face was pale, his eyes bulging. “You better haul your own weight around here, man.”

  Elena shoved him back. “Hey—lay off, Hayes.”

  “Lay off? You’re sticking up for this pussy, Elena?” He glared at Nathan. “C’mon, bro—what’s your kill count—one lousy bag?”

  Lurch’s voice warbled, thick and nearly incomprehensible. “Didn’t I tell…you to shut your…face, Hayes?” He squinted their direction, took a faltering step, then toppled face-first into the insect-riddled ground. His right arm was reduced to a stump of shredded meat and exposed bone. Blood jetted from the wound like water from a hose.

  “Lurch!” Elena darted forward, but was stopped by Ariki’s massive arm.

&n
bsp; “Don’t.”

  The insects that flooded from the remains of the Others skittered to Lurch’s body like bits of metal to a massive magnet. He thrashed as they attacked him, his screams muffled by the living stream that poured down his throat.

  Sweat dripped from Ariki’s face. His jaw clenched when he raised his rifle, aimed, and fired a single shot.

  Lurch’s body jerked and went still. The torrent of insects continued to pile on, until his form was lost under the mass of shifting creatures.

  “Aw, hell.” Hayes’ mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. “That’s just…aw, man.”

  “He’s done. Gotta suck it up and drive on. We need to get as far away from these things as possible. Catch up with the rest of the detail.” Ariki placed a hand on his headset. “Radio check. Damon, do you read me?”

  A grimace crossed his face. “Just static. Charlie Foxtrot this is Ariki, over. Do you copy?”

  “Rest of the squad?” Hayes pointed to the thick, roiling fog. “We don’t even know if they’re alive, bro.”

  “Better than staying here.” Ariki shouldered his gun and took point, gingerly stepping forward. “I can’t pick up anyone on the wire. Time to pop smoke. You want to stick around, you’re on your own.”

  Nathan stooped to pick up Michael’s forgotten pistols. “Ariki’s right. We have to find the other group. Or Michael, at least.”

  Elena ejected an empty magazine from her pistol and quickly reloaded it. “I don’t think Michael’s going to make it. Not alone, and not against those things.”

  “You didn’t see what I did.” Nathan slipped the extra pistols in his cargo pockets. “We’re the ones who won’t make it if we can’t hook up with the others.”

  “Yeah?” Hayes paused in the act of wiping bug guts off his face. “Why’s that?”

  Nathan took a look at the tangled, mist-enshrouded surroundings. “Michael and Guy are the only two who know where they’re going. And in case you didn’t notice, neither of them are with us right now. If we don’t find them, we’re as good as dead.”