Trapped
Paul systematically searched, checking each living quarters. With the crew of nine there wasn’t anything to see in the empty quarters. Still, he wanted to be thorough. Though his mind continued to think about Bridgette. He reached the mess and entered. He had fond memories of this area. The crew had spent a lot of time traveling and the mess was usually filled with laughter, poker playing, teasing Bridgette, playing on the pinball machine, and beating Roger’s high score. A noise above his head startled him from his fond memories. He scanned the vent above his head. He stuffed the gun into the waistband of his jeans, grabbed a chair, placed it directly underneath, and pushed open the panel. It made a loud, echoing thud as it landed on the steel panel on the other side. He listened intently, waiting for the sound to repeat. When it didn’t, he reached his arms up, hooked his fingers into the opening and hoisted himself up. Unable to see anything he lowered himself down and hunted through the room for a flashlight. He found one in one of the drawers. He climbed back on the chair, using his chin to hold the flashlight to his chest. With both his hands on the inside of the vent, he lifted himself up enough to rest his left elbow on one side and grab the flashlight with his right hand. He turned it on and shone the light in every direction. He stayed perfectly still and listened. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a kind of squelching slithering.
“Got ya now, you sonofabitch.” He laid the flashlight down and rolled it a few feet in. He heaved his body all the way up until he was able to use his knees to push himself forward, his hip landed on the torch and he let out a winded sound. He lowered his arm and wormed his body into the small space until he could grab the light. When he did, he brought it forward and shone it ahead. He got on his hands and knees and crawled forward. When he came to a fork, he looked both ways and listened intently. The sound was coming from the right. He reached down and pulled the gun from his waistband with his right and found he couldn’t hold the flashlight and gun in the same hand. He used his left for the flashlight and found he no longer had means to push himself forward. Frustrated, he tucked the gun back into his pants. He felt as though he was on a suicide mission. With no room to turn around, he had no choice but to crawl backward. He abruptly stopped and recalibrated where he would be. At a guess, he placed himself somewhere close to the kitchen. Being very familiar with the kitchen, he knew of an access to the vent above the grill. Instead of going right, he went left toward the kitchen. Leaving the noise he’d heard in the other direction. With a sigh of relief, he hastily pressed on.
With each rapid movement he made he clanked the flashlight along the duct’s floor. The sound inadvertently spooked him. He stopped, looking ahead, and for a moment he thought he had passed the kitchen’s access point. Confused, he scratched his head. The action created an unexpected shadow on the wall of the duct. Paul was startled until he realized it was his own shadow. Then he chuckled nervously to himself and moved on. Everything had him unnerved. His knees and hands were aching, desperately he wanted to be in the kitchen, to stand up and give respite to his aching joints. A few feet from the kitchen, he thought he heard something and paused; straining his ears over the soft humming of the ship’s air conditioning, he intently listened.
Nothing came at him from the front and he started to feel stupid again, hearing noises that weren’t there. He picked up his pace and maneuvered forward. Suddenly, a painful sting penetrated his right leg and shot up into his lower back. He kicked his knees out and fell onto his belly. With his stomach flush to the floor he rolled onto his side. He waved the flashlight wildly at his legs, madly trying to free the gun from his pants. The light silhouetted his body across the wall and it terrified him. He could feel his leg being opened up. Slowly, he shone the light down his leg, inch-by-inch until he was almost at the ankle.
That’s when he saw it. A dark shape wriggling through his torn pants. It had started to vanish inside his leg. The light caught the ass-end of it before it was completely gone. The excruciating pain penetrated deep into his leg. He thought he might pass out. He bit down on his bottom lip while twisting his body and used all of his stomach muscles to bend himself over enough to hit his leg with the flashlight. It was a futile attempt. He wiggled around and pulled the gun free from his jeans, only to drop it when the creature dug inside his flesh. The pain was so intense he almost chipped a tooth when he bit down, gnashing his bottom and top teeth together. Even the noise of that terrified him. The alien went another layer deeper, before ascending inside his leg. Automatically, Paul’s body protested, and his leg jerked out and struck the side panel of the duct. The sound vibrated around him; a chilling echo in his ears that only made him panic more.
When he saw two more aliens coming at him, his lungs constricted, and he felt hot bile rising to the back of his throat. In a panic, he tried to move, but banged his head on the ductwork ceiling. As the one in front got closer, he tossed the flashlight at it. He madly felt around for his gun and screamed when he couldn’t find it. The glow from his flashlight illuminated the two coming for him. He gulped in rapid succession, drying out his throat which made it hard for him to swallow his own spit. One minute it was 10 feet from him and the next it was closing in and he was trapped. The alien from the front was suddenly on him. It latched onto his face, covering his nose and mouth. He tried to grab at it, but it was too strong and slippery. He couldn’t maintain a hold of it. The alien pierced his nose and Paul’s mouth opened into a scream, allowing the creature an easier way in. His scream locked at the back of his throat. The only sound that emerged was a muffled grunt. He choked convulsively, feeling the alien slide down his throat. He bit down hard, catching some of it in his back teeth. The taste was so bitter that regurgitation shot up his esophagus. With the creature in the way, his spew got stuck in his throat. Paul didn’t die from the alien’s invasive maneuvers. He asphyxiated on his own puke.
Search and Destroy
Sam passed the infirmary in search of Paul. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the gurney with the body bag, and shivered. He walked up to the large window and peered directly at the lifeless bag. His finger twitched on the pulse-rifle’s trigger. He felt the sharpness of gooseflesh prick at the base of his neck and a cold shudder shot down the back of his spine. He knew Nico was in it and he wondered how soon it would be before Roger’s body would be as well. He was suddenly terrified of the aliens. He had been holding his emotions in check, but seeing the body bag brought all the anger, fear, and sadness to the surface. His heart began to race, and his palms turned sweaty. Where could Paul be? He had to find him before they lost another member of the crew.
His stomach grumbled, not once, but three times. It brought his thoughts back into focus. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. There hadn’t been time to think, much less eat.
After checking all of the rooms on the level Paul was supposedly searching, he entered the mess room and quickly noticed the odd placement of the chair. His eyes scanned around and then upward, spying the open vent. He swung the pulse-rifle over his shoulder and stood on the chair. He hoisted himself up to take a look. Unable to see anything, he listened. No sounds. No signs of Paul. He called out Paul’s name and waited. After a few minutes went by, his growling stomach became relentless. It was distracting him. He climbed off the chair and made his way to the kitchen, being mindful of every nook and cranny that the alien could be hiding in.
Inside the kitchen, he had a quick glance around, then made his way to the fridge and was bitterly disappointed to find it nearly empty. On one of the shelves he removed a premade bag of pureed beef, at least he thought it was. He tore open the packet, put it to his nose and inhaled. With a shrug of his shoulders, he turned the packet up and squeezed the contents into his mouth. With his head tilted back, he closed his eyes and imagined he was eating roast pork with crackling, duck-fried potatoes and steamed green beans. He squirted the rest of the contents into his mouth, crumpled the bag, and tossed it into a nearby sink.
/> He swiped at his forehead when he felt something wet. Still hungry, he started to search the cupboards and noticed his fingers were stained red. Upon a closer look and with a hard sniff, he thought it was blood. To make sure he ran his tongue across the top of one finger and tasted it. “Yep, that’s blood all right.” He wiped his forehead again and got a tiny smear across the tips of three fingers, but he could not feel anything that would cause his head to bleed. He walked to the grill and removed a stainless-steel, hanging pot, turned it upside down and looked into the bottom at his reflection. He couldn’t see any scrapes or cuts. Confused, he slowly surveyed the area. Looking up, he noticed the darkened area of the ceiling. He moved closer and was able to see the dripping blood clearly.
Sam searched the ceiling until he found the ventilation hatch above the grill. He hopped onto the bench and from there to the stove. It was a massive stove, built strong enough to hold his weight. Standing on it, he reached up and pushed the hatch open. Grabbing the inside, he lifted himself into the small area and called for Paul. He couldn’t see anything, slid himself back out, and got off the grill. He found a flashlight in the third drawer he looked in. He went back to investigate through the vent. He fell out when his light panned across Paul’s body. Grabbing his gun, he felt his heart quicken and beads of sweat trickle down his head. He set his fears aside to double-check what he’d seen. This time he crawled into the ductwork and shone the light on Paul’s corpse. Sam got close enough to grab Paul and drag him back out of the duct. He pulled, pushed and yanked until he got Paul’s arms dangling out of the hole. When Sam was fully out, and still standing on the stove, he reached up and took ahold of Paul’s hands and pulled hard. Ducking out of the way as Paul’s body fell to the top of the grill with a heavy thud, Sam jumped off and stood on the floor eyeballing his crewmate’s lifeless frame. He could see where the creatures had exited Paul’s body. An awful shudder ran down Sam’s back. In a panic, he looked back up and feared the aliens were still there and would pounce on him. He removed his finger from the trigger of his pulse-rifle when he felt trigger-happy. Not wanting to blast holes in the ship, he stumbled back, almost tripping when his leg collided with the drawer he’d left open.
“Dammit, Paul. Why did ya go up there, man?” Sam knew he’d never hear the answer. He found himself studying Paul’s body as if he was frozen in time studying some long-lost, treasured artifacts at a museum. He couldn’t look away. Finally, he shook his head and tried to gather his thoughts.
He blankly looked at the wall-mounted speaker and wanted to kick himself for not having fixed the intercom. He had to alert John of Paul’s death. And that the aliens might still be in the area. Frustration got the better of him as he realized a working intercom would have shaved minutes off his current situation. He pulled himself together and started out, only to turn around gun aimed, when a sound caught his attention. He spun on his heels, madly eyeing the room, taking it all in too fast as he continued to spin in a circle. Dizzy, he stopped and held his breath for a few seconds, before exhaling through his nose. The released air exiting from his nostrils sounded like a walrus snoring. He was facing the door when glass jars behind him clinked into one another as if a ghost had brushed up against them.
He dug deep down, pulled out a shield of bravery, and started to yell, “Show yourself, you sonofabitch!” He waited as if he expected the thing to answer. Sam almost gave up and left when he saw it slithering towards him. He raised his gun, ready to blast it to kingdom come, when suddenly he lowered it, when an idea struck him. “Got you now!” Swiftly, he lunged at it, hitting it with the butt of his rifle. “Got ya!” he yelled over and over. With the heavy force of his gun, he ended up killing it. “Crap! I wanted it alive. Why did I have to use so much force?” His thoughts raced around in his head, and another idea came to him. He got to his feet and snatched a large jar from the shelf and then a spatula. He slid the creature into the jar and twisted the lid on tightly. He bolted from the kitchen and ran all the way to the control room.
Relentless
Sam held up the jar for Bridgette to see and then asked her, “Where is John?”
“He went to med bay. Eww, what the hell is that?” Bridgette nervously traced her fingers on the outside of the glass jar. “Is it dead?” She took in the alien’s form and was surprised to see how big it was. Stepping back, she felt the urgent need to get off the ship. Bridgette almost jumped out of her skin when Athena came online.
“Fuel critical. You have twelve minutes before the power goes out. Please get to your escape pods immediately.”
“Thank you, Athena. We’re on it,” Bridgette announced, as she gave Sam a pathetic look of doom.
“It’s dead!” Sam shouted. “Like this damn ship. I’ll get the doctor and John and meet you at the hangar.” He rushed out the door, sprinted down the corridor and down a flight of stairs until he reached the sick bay. Through the window, he saw the doctor in deep discussion with John. Sam held his hand against the door pad. It scanned his palm with a satisfying beep. The doors unlocked and slid open. He rushed in and stuck the jar on the bench right in front of Liam.
“A specimen, in case you need it, and before you ask... yes, it is dead. We, however, have to leave now. The ship’s power is about to go out. Athena has warned us to leave immediately. We’re meeting Bridgette in the hangar. I found Paul and he’s dead. I see by the body bag that Roger didn’t make it.”
“Sam... slow down. We’re leaving,” John said, without a hint of panic.
Sam watched Doctor Liam input a final bit of data before logging out. He handed John the laptop and picked up the jar.
“I thought you said this thing was dead?” His eyes grew wide as he watched the creature start to expand like insulation foam.
“It was. At least, I thought it was. Hell, I must’ve only knocked the sucker out. I wanted to capture it alive so you could study it. Looks like I did. It doesn’t matter, let’s go,” Sam insisted.
John waited by the door with the laptop held tightly in his right hand. Liam put the jar down, as the thing inside expanded further. When he was at the door, standing alongside John and Sam, they all turned when they heard glass shattering. The creature dropped to the floor with shards of glass poking out of its body. The three men just made it out the door and closed it behind them before the alien slithered up the glass. When it found the barrier between it and the remaining crew, it oozed across the wall and into the vent.
“Christ! That damn thing is relentless. Let’s get out of here,” John ordered, as he jogged and then began sprinting.
The other two didn’t need any prompting. They were already running to the hangar bay. When the power started shutting down, the sirens sounded and a series of orange lights started to flick on and off. An automated voice started a countdown.
“Almost there,” John called back to the others.
Three levels down and they made it into the hangar bay. Bridgette was waiting nervously, already wearing her spacesuit and holding her gun in one hand and her helmet in the other.
“Nice to see you made it. Now, can we get the hell out of here?” she asked, inching closer to her escape pod.
Before John could answer her, Sam yelled out, “Look, over there!” His eyes grew wide with terror as he looked at the creature dead on.
The others looked in his direction. Bridgette could feel her gooseflesh rise like towering needles that stabbed at the back of her neck. Her sweaty hands gripped tightly to her gun. She raised it and fired. Missing her target, she watched in horror as the creature morphed into the shape and silhouette of something resembling a human. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was like watching a jellyfish being reshaped over and over. The creature went back to its original form when two more joined it.
“Quickly, get inside your pods,” John ordered. Dropping the laptop at his feet, he fired his gun repeatedly.
He watched in disbelief as each bullet went right through the creature and out the other side wit
hout any visible damage. Liam picked up his laptop and got inside the same pod with Bridgette. He struggled with the seatbelt, but finally managed to fasten it over his bulky spacesuit. Bridgette snapped her helmet on and climbed in. She punched in a series of keystrokes on the small keypad and the craft’s engines started. A large door behind her pod opened wide and they were sucked out into space, heading home to Earth. Neither of them noticed the alien that had slithered into the pod with them. It snaked its way under her seat.
“Sam, get into the damn pod now!” screamed John.
Sam struggled swiftly into his suit and snapped the helmet in place. John was seconds behind him. He closed the door manually. He put on his helmet and typed in the coordinates for Earth. When the engines whirled into action, he put on his seatbelt. No sooner had his belt clipped in tightly then the tiny, two-seater pod was sucked out into space. He closed his eyes for a miracle. The trip home would be hard, and he hoped they wouldn’t be hit by asteroids or debris. A tiny smile formed as they got farther away from the ship. His thoughts went to Lucy and Alice. His smile vanished when he received no reply from Bridgette’s pod. He hoped they were just out of range and that nothing more sinister had happened. Pushing all the negative thoughts from his mind, he focused on getting home in one piece.
“I’m coming home,” he said softly.
Epilogue
There was every reason to be concerned about the arrival of aliens on Earth. When Bridgette’s pod crashed to Earth, both she and Liam had already been infected. By the time rescuers arrived, the aliens had escaped both Bridgette and Liam’s dead bodies and had infected a nearby farmer. That farmer went on to infect his wife, who then infected her coworkers at the elementary school where she worked. It wasn’t long before a widespread invasion took place. Everyone was scrambling to be taken to the safety of planet Sol.
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