Torment of Tantalus

by Bard Constantine

  He exhaled a shuddering breath and nodded. The gun lowered.

  Damon grinned. “Now that we’re all friends again, let’s head to the rendezvous before something worse than us heads this way. Time to take the fight indoors.”

  Elena glowered at him. “What makes you think something intelligent is even inside?”

  “Rules of combat, fobbit. Whenever there’s chaos, there’s order in the center. Someone pushing the buttons, keeping things just muddled enough to pursue their agenda undisturbed. All these sick, twisted monstrosities running around? Attack dogs. Guerrillas. Serving the sole purpose of keeping anyone incoming from entering the HQ. So that’s exactly why we need to get in. Time to meet the mind behind the madness.”

  Charlie Foxtrot stared at Hayes. “What the hell happened to your face?”

  “What do you mean?” His hands drifted up to the bloodstained wrapping. “My face? I got bit by a leech, but it hardly—”

  “You look like a corpse is what I mean. The walking dead. Damn, I can’t believe you’re even standing up.”

  Elena shot her a warning look. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  Charlie Foxtrot didn’t take the hint. “The hell it ain’t. You always was ugly, but you’re giving ugly a bad name right now. You look like someone used your face for target practice. I seen corpses that look better than you, kid.”

  “I can take care of that.” Damon twirled a stiletto between his fingers. “Cut some of that rot from your face. Better now before it really spreads.”

  Elena stepped in between him and Hayes. “You’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you? You know he’ll die if you do.”

  “He’s already dead.” Damon slammed the blade into its sheath. “You’re not doing him any favors. Should have left him where he was.”

  “Like you did? You’re an animal.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you? Animals are the only thing on this island. Only difference is whether you’re hunting or being hunted, get it? If we’re not doing surgery, we’re moving.” He gave her a wolfish grin before stalking off.

  “Is it really that bad? I don’t feel a thing.” Hayes tenderly dabbed the swollen, discolored skin. “How come you guys didn’t tell me?”

  “Because we didn’t want you to panic. So much for that plan.” Elena frowned at Charlie Foxtrot, who shrugged.

  “Hell, just thought dude should know.” She shouldered her rifle and fell in line behind Damon. “If he’s still walking, I guess he’ll live. We better haul ass ‘fore the boogeymen catch our scent.”

  Hayes stalled, pulling the gauze back from his face. Black oozed dribbled over his fingers. Trembling, he held up his Bowie knife to see his reflection. His eyes widened.

  His startled yells echoed in the air.

  ∞Φ∞

  “Privates Ruiz and Hayes. Good to see you alive. Nathan, you as well.” Blackwell peered down the scope of his Ruger precision rifle. Guy stood a few yards away, scanning the heavy mist. Blackwell kept his focus on the stretch of lush greenery just ahead of them. “Ariki’s not with you?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Hate to hear that.”

  “Yeah, I bet you are. Probably expected all of us to bite it.”

  “On the contrary. We need all the help we can get. After all, we’re about to enter the stygian underworld and have a tete-a-tete with an interdimensional Hades. But first we have to get through that.”

  Elena looked in the direction of his pointed finger. The glossy black obelisk was close enough to clearly see the cryptic runes imprinted across its surface. But surrounding it was a thick tangle of tall stalks with long, flowering buds. Fibers as fine as silk drifted from some of the stems, glowing with luminescent blossoms.

  “You think something’s hiding in there?”

  “Worse. Our friend Guy says the plants themselves are the enemy. Carnivorous. We’ll have to be extra careful.” He turned from the scope, noticing Hayes for the first time. His eyes widened. “What happened to your face?”

  “I’m dying, is what happened.” Hayes appeared on the verge of tears again. It took a great deal of coaxing to convince him to come along after he saw the extremity of his injury. “I’m rotting away, all right? A freaking zombie in the making. Got it?”

  “Keep your voice down.” Blackwell frowned at Hayes. “Either you suck it up or I’ll have Damon put you out of your misery. Can’t afford to be attacked again when we’re so close.”

  Hayes stiffened. “Sic your dog on me, and I’ll neuter him. Then I’ll come back for you.” He stared at Damon, who just grinned in response.

  Blackwell clapped Hayes on the shoulder. “See? Aggression serves you much better than self-pity.” He turned to Guy. “How do you want to do this?”

  Guy glanced at the group. “How many of you have respirators?”

  Elena unconsciously felt for her missing pack. “I lost everything in the river.”

  “I have one.” Nathan pulled a half-face particulate mask from the pouch on his belt. “It’s yours.”

  “What are you going to use?”

  “I’ll manage.”

  “That isn’t a solution and you know it.”

  “Aw, you’re breaking my heart.” Damon’s voice hissed out of the filter mask he had just slipped over his head. “One mask, two lovers. What to do?”

  Blackwell secured a mask on as well. Charlie Foxtrot and Hayes gave each other skeptical looks.

  “Guess we’re the only fools left out. What do we need masks for anyhow? Those killer plants gonna gas us or something?”

  “Not gas.” Guy slipped a mask over his face. “Spores. The Yateveo lie dormant when not feeding. They periodically emit particles intended to induce an allergic reaction, which awakens them and alerts them to attack. They also use fibers from their roots in a fashion similar to trip wires. If you don’t have a mask, wrap a rag or two tightly around your nose and mouth. Follow me, and step where I step. Make no noise. Let’s go.”

  ∞Φ∞

  The ground was clammy and quivered with every step. It was hard for Elena not to imagine stepping on cold, dead flesh. Ghostly mist flowed over toecaps of her boots, making it near impossible to see the deadly trip roots Guy had warned of.

  That was the least of her worries.

  The field of Yateveo plants felt like an alien world. She recalled walking through her grandmother’s garden as a child and standing in the middle of a field of sunflower plants that had grown taller than she was. The enormous yellow disks had been larger than her head, giving them an eerie appearance to an over-imaginative young girl. They all faced the same direction, as if staring at something with their yellow cycloptic gazes.

  The Yateveo plants were far worse. Buds nearly the size of a grown man sprouted from bristly stalks, speckled and mottled in shades of green and brown. Broad leaves made a decorative collar for the buds, which hung limp like giant heads of sleeping sentinels. The stalks branched off in multiple stems, most lined with brightly colored tentacles tipped with sticky mucilage that glimmered in the dim light.

  A thick curtain of fine dust hung in the air, tainting everything in yellow hues. She knew it was the spore particles Guy had spoken of. She carefully glanced back at Nathan and tapped her filter mask. He shook his head to the unasked question. He had insisted she keep the mask, despite her protests. He chose to tie rags around his face like Charlie Foxtrot and Hayes. His eyes revealed the terror that belied his chivalrous gesture. He looked like a man about to succumb to a severe anxiety attack.

  She turned around just in time to see Guy hold up a warning hand. He pointed to the ground and carefully stepped over something. Blackwell followed suit, and well as Michael. Elena stared down as she approached.

  The upturned root was barely visible in the thick fog that carpeted the ground. It looked like an overturned centipede, with feelers wriggling like thousands of legs. Her face twisted as she took a wary step over it and leaned back to steady Hayes, who was also supported by Nathan. Toget
her they helped Hayes get past undetected. Charlie Foxtrot negotiated the trap with ease before turning to Damon.

  He was stumbling backward.

  His back to the others, he peered into the foggy backdrop with his rifle raised. Charlie Foxtrot hissed a warning that fell on deaf ears as he appeared completely focused on surveying some unseen threat even as he backed into another one.

  He paused, one foot hovering above the swaying feelers. As Nathan and Charlie Foxtrot stepped up to try to alert him, Elena finally caught sight of what he had been looking at.

  Nothing.

  His head swiveled around as if he was surrounded by multiple assailants, and his rifle fanned back and forth as well. His yells were muffled by the respirator, but his agitation was made clear by his spasmodic motions. Elena’s breath caught when she saw the problem. A tiny crack was clearly visible in the thermoplastic face shield near the silicone facepiece, probably from the damage it had taken from the many bumps and falls. There was no telling how the poisoned air afflicted him.

  He whirled around, eyes rolled back and mouth agape. Bubbles of foam flecked his lips. He snatched the respirator off just before a torrent of creamy vomit erupted from his mouth and fanned across the air. His arms flailed when he staggered backward, gurgling. Charlie Foxtrot cursed and hefted her rifle when his foot stomped on the protruding root.

  The world went insane.

  The nearest Yateveo bud opened in a spray of green ichor. Petals unfurled like shriveled lips, and serpentine tentacles whipped from the center of a gaping cavity lined with thorny fangs. They wrapped around Damon with nightmarish speed, snatched him off his feet and yanked him into the gaping maw. The mouth snapped shut on his flailing body, the stalk grotesquely disproportionate as he was devoured.

  “Oh my God!” Hayes screamed.

  Charlie Foxtrot yelled, opening fire. The sounds exploded, snapping everyone out of their shocked stupor. Her arm muscles quivered as she fanned her barrage in a semicircle, ripping into other Yateveo plants as they snapped to life. Milky fluid spattered when the rounds tore them apart. Elena and the others quickly followed suit. The air rang with the deafening sound of gunfire. The attacking plants recoiled as they were struck, heavy buds thudding against the ground, still snapping in ravenous attempts to snare their prey.

  Guy’s voice carried over the din. “Go for the door!”

  “I’m out of ammo.” Nathan seized Elena by the sleeve. “C’mon.”

  They dashed forward, followed by a bellowing Hayes. His erratic shooting managed to keep the nearest Yateveo from snapping them up as they passed. Thick, sticky tentacles swung to and fro, snapping like whips. A sound emitted from them, the rumble of a million agitated hornets. Yateveo heads emerged from the fog like prehistoric monsters, exploding as they were mercilessly struck by Guy and Blackwell’s coordinated bursts. Charlie Foxtrot belted out a furious scream just before a grenade explosion bloomed in the murk behind them.

  The door drew closer, black and glistening. An entire line of Yateveo plants blocked the way. Michael roared and threw up a hand. Somehow the plants exploded, as if struck by an invisible shockwave. Elena didn’t question it. The world was insane, and more insanity meant nothing. Sticky white fluid rained down as they cleared the ruined field of Yateveo, ducking under injured feelers and dashing toward the door. Slamming against the foreign alloy, they banged and kicked at the surface, yelling incoherent threats and pleas.

  As if in response, the door slid open with a hiss and huff of expelled steam.

  No one moved. The doorway was a mouth of yawning darkness, revealing nothing of what lay within. They stared as if hypnotized, as if the comprehension of a working door had somehow left them dumbfounded.

  Guy pushed his way past. “What did you expect? Let’s go.”

  He stepped forward and was swallowed by the gloom. A faint light bloomed. He held a flare upright, yet was barely visible even though he appeared to be only a few feet away. The darkness around him was thick, as though it coagulated in rebellion against the light. He beckoned with his free hand, his voice ghostly, muffled as though by a wall of water.

  “Come on.”

  Elena exchanged glances with the others. Even Blackwell appeared hesitant. He licked his lips and nodded as if reassuring himself. When he stepped into the doorway, his figure flickered as though crossing some invisible barrier. Michael quickly followed, not even hesitating as he went inside.

  “Hell with it.” Hayes’ voice was thick, dribbled through swollen lips. His face was a swollen mass of battered meat, nearly unrecognizable. “Hell with it. What could be worse than this?” He followed Blackwell, barely pausing before crossing the barrier in a barely visible glimmer of movement.

  “You fools gonna move, or just wait for something else to kill you?” Charlie Foxtrot’s voice was irritable from behind them. “No point losing your nerve now. Move it.”

  Nathan shrugged. “She’s right.”

  He took a deep breath then stepped forward. Elena followed right behind him. There was a sensation of a shivery shill, as if passing through a thin layer of invisible liquid. Then she was inside, surrounded by gloom and harsh breathing. Charlie Foxtrot was the last inside. As soon as she entered, the door snapped shut, enveloping them in immediate darkness.

  Everyone automatically huddled around Guy and his upraised flare. Visibility was near non-existent, but the air was sterile, the sounds echoing in a metallic manner.

  “Where are we?”

  Fluorescent green illuminated Charlie Foxtrot’s face when she snapped open a lightstick. “I’m guessing the gates of Hell.”

  “Everyone stay together.” Guy’s face was barely visible in the light of his flare. “We’re in a chamber of some kind. Let’s try to find a door.”

  Blackwell held up a hand. “Listen.”

  They paused. Elena’s chest tightened when she heard the sound. It was a gurgling noise, the sound of thick liquid pouring from multiple orifices. A medicinal scent filled the air.

  “My feet.” Hayes yelped and leaped backward. “Something’s moving down there.”

  Elena felt it. Something cold and wet oozed into her boots. She fought down the urge to scream, even as the others gave in to various levels of panic.

  “What the hell is this stuff?”

  “It’s pouring in from somewhere.”

  “Is it water?”

  “No. Too thick. Don’t know what it is.”

  “It’s coming in fast.”

  “From where?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Stay calm.”

  “The hell with that, Guy. How do we get out of here?”

  “I’m looking.”

  “Look harder!”

  “It’s up to my knees now. Aw, man…”

  Elena bent and dipped her fingers in the viscous fluid. It was translucent and dripped from her fingers like slime. Nathan joined her, lowering his glowing lightstick to take a closer look.

  “It’s some kind of gel.” He sniffed it. “It looks synthetic, not biological. Not acidic, or we’d have felt it by now.” His voice shook when he stared upward. “Why bring us inside only to release this in the chamber?”

  “Why the hell do you think?” Hayes’ voice rose in a shrill yell. “It’s a defense mechanism. Last resort to keep us from getting inside. It’s a goddamn trap, get it? We’re totally screwed, man!”

  Elena’s chest felt tight, her breathing choppy. The panic pulsed in her veins, thudding in her temples.

  We’re going to die.

  The gel was up to her chest. She looked over at Nathan. He looked more resigned than anything else. She realized he had already assumed he would die on the island. Now that the moment had arrived, he almost looked relieved.

  “Nathan…”

  He glanced at her and his face softened. “I’m sorry, Elena.”

  “For what?”

  “For not getting you out of this mess.”

  A sputter of desperate laughter esca
ped her. “Get me out? What did I say? I’m the one watching out for you, Mr. Consultant.”

  A grim smile touched his lips when he glanced around. Everyone thrashed in the rising gel, their voices bouncing off its viscid surface. “Not exactly pleased with your job performance, Private Ruiz.”

  She tried to laugh, but it died in her throat. She reached through the thick liquid, found his hand and squeezed it. “We’re going to make it, Nate. Have to keep trying. Tread water for as long as we can. Maybe there’s a hatch in the ceiling, or—”

  “Impossible.” He shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Took thick. I’m tired, Elena. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying. I just want to leave this place. Just want to let go…”

  His hand slipped from hers. She gasped when he tilted back and slowly sank into the liquescent gel. His eyes were closed, his face almost peaceful.

  “Nate!”

  She tried to swim toward him, but the gel resisted her efforts. She finally gave in to full-blown panic as it rose to her chin. The cries of the others rang in her ears. Her breath punched from her lungs in quick gasps, her heart hammered, echoing all around her.

  The gel crawled over her face.

  She thrashed, choking her screams down and cursing the foolishness of not filling her lungs with air before she went under. Her eyes snapped open.

  Dark shapes were barely visible around her. The nearest was Nathan, not at all peaceful as he thrashed in slow, exaggerated motions. Thick, gummy bubbles exploded from his screaming mouth.

  Her chest burned. She tried to force her body to rise, but it was impossible. She was trapped, unable to move. Unable to breathe. Her lungs begged for air, every muscle in her bone seared with fire.

  This can’t be happening. Can’t be happening…

  Her body finally betrayed her. She gasped, trying to suck in air that didn’t exist. The gel filled her mouth instead, poured down her throat, filled her lungs. She flailed, trying to find the surface, find the air…

  Please, God. Please don’t let me die here. Please, God. Please…

  Heavy pressure crushed her chest, thick liquid asphyxiated her lungs and throat. Her movements weakened, her vision blurred. The darkness rolled in from all directions, smothering everything.