The Pilot

by Michael Cole

  “Fuck…you…” Terrie tightened her hold once again.

  “You can be pissed all you like,” he said. “That thing killed one of my men. It wiped out a whole team of soldiers before we got here. It nearly killed the rest of us…What the hell is that thing?”

  Hawk bared her teeth, trying to curse further. Every struggle to free herself only resulted in a tighter grip by Terrie. It was like her neck was being crushed by an anaconda. Hawk felt herself growing lightheaded. Her movements weakened. Finally, she tapped her hand against Terrie’s elbow. Terrie hesitated, looking to Seymour first, who nodded. She loosened up a tad, ready to strangle the agent further should she try anything.

  “We…we weren’t the first to find it…” she said. Terrie fully loosened her grip and stepped aside. Hawk rubbed a hand over her neck, still clutching her stomach. She took a breath. “August 19th, 2017, a research team discovered the USS Indianapolis. On July 30th, 1945, it had been sunken by a Japanese submarine after delivering uranium and parts for the atomic bomb, which later would be dropped on Hiroshima.”

  “Yeah, okay Lady, we’ve seen Jaws,” Sutton said. “We know what the ship is.”

  “Since then…” Hawk spoke up, “…several research teams have sent submersibles down to explore the wreck. Using high-tech submersibles and drones, worth millions of dollars, these teams were able to get into the interior of the ship. In doing so, these teams also brought back certain relics from the wreck. One of them brought back a pair of Navy boots, another discovered a picture frame belonging to a lost sailor…”

  “A moving story,” Rex mocked. “Not sure what it has to do with…”

  “AND…one brought up a sealed briefcase,” Hawk said. The team stood silent. With the pain in her stomach subsiding, Hawk finally stood up straight. “During the Pacific Theatre, the Indianapolis took part in the island-hopping campaign, supporting the landing of Amchitka, intercepting Japanese cargo ships and Destroyers, the taking of Tarawa, eventually moving onto the Kwajalein Atoll Islands. In 1945, right before taking Iwo Jima, it took part in the taking of Kuretasando…this island here. Of course, that following July, it was sunken.

  “The briefcase was among the assets confiscated when the U.S. eliminated the Imperial forces from this island. When they opened it, they discovered documents, written in Japanese. They turned them over to a translator, who turned them over to us. The Japanese found the capsule first…” she looked to Seymour, “Yes, that thing in the bunker. They at least had the sense not to open it. Then again, they didn’t have the chance. We stormed the island, probably right after they found it, and eliminated all forces. Nobody was left alive to speak of this thing.”

  “You said Capsule,” Sutton said. “You mean…”

  “It’s extraterrestrial,” Hawk said.

  “You’ve got to be shittin’ me,” Ivan said.

  “That, what I saw, was a ship?” Seymour said.

  “Let me guess, you guys wanted to make “first contact,”?” Rex said, making air quotes.

  “We don’t have a name for it. We simply called it the Pilot. Dr. Trevor was assigned by our government to set up a research facility on this island. Those construction vehicles you saw, they were originally here to construct a sturdier, high-tech facility. We wanted to keep this thing quarantined on this island. We were only interested in the technology. You saw the machinery in our lab. We developed it to scan the capsule, thus, we were able to have a three-dimensional view of our guest, perfectly contained in some sort of status.”

  “Did you guys already know this thing was hostile?” Seymour asked.

  “We examined the capsule. It contained a strange, ion-based technology. That big supercomputer…the one you saw in the operation room…we used that to analyze the ion particle. We don’t think the capsule is its main ship, but something like an escape pod. Something must have happened, hundreds, thousands, maybe even millions of years ago. That thing had to abandon its ship and drift off inside the capsule. It remained in stasis all this time, never awoken, probably because the capsule was low on power after it crashed.”

  “Ah, wonderful,” Sutton said. “Let me guess…this Dr. Trevor guy woke it up!”

  “So why are you eager to see it dead?” Seymour interrupted.

  “The capsule contained some sort of 3-D display. We realized it was a digital map, using images and scans from probes sent out to that location…and…”

  “And what?” Terrie said.

  “Judging by the simulated trajectory, calculated by the ion particle path over the course of billions of miles, we think this thing…before whatever caused it to go into stasis…traveled from planet to planet.”

  “Planet to planet?” Seymour said. “Doing what?”

  Hawk silently looked at him with a grave expression. Whatever it was doing, she doubted they were social calls. She then glanced down at the soldier. Sutton walked over to him, picking up Hawk’s pouch. Opening it, he removed the vial of blood.

  “You took this from him?” he said, pointing to the soldier. Hawk nodded. Sutton started examining the soldier, checking the eyes, mouth, and hands.

  “Don’t think you’re his type, Doc,” Ivan said.

  “Shut up, you ape,” Sutton said. Hawk turned back to face Seymour.

  “We’re not sure what this creature’s fully capable of, but we suspect it might be an invasive species of sorts…Dr. Trevor, on the other hand…he wanted to attempt communication with it. We wouldn’t let him, but he persisted. We were about to remove him from the project. He didn’t want to, so he decided he’d get funding by another source who’d let him do what he wanted, in exchange for all the data and technology.”

  “Dr. Trevor turned to the North Koreans for aid?” Seymour said.

  “Kidnapped his own team,” Hawk said. “General Rhee saw an opportunity for power. That’s why the C.I.A. wanted to go with an elite private group. As Lesher said, they were masquerading as a Chinese research team, and, well…”

  “Also, you guys didn’t want the inevitable coverage of sending our military after one of your own,” Seymour said. “So, this thing is an alien. Obviously, it seems it’s not fond of sharing this island with anybody. Is it just pissed that people shot at it, or is there something else it wants?”

  “I think I have an answer,” Sutton said, standing up. “This dead guy here…I don’t think he’s dead.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The blood should be coagulating by now,” Sutton said. “As you can see here, his body has become completely rigid.”

  “Yeah, it happens to a lot of dead guys,” Rex said.

  “Not until three to six hours after death, dumbass,” Sutton said. “I think this guy’s suffering some sort of paralysis. I think that’s what happened to those soldiers, and animals in that graveyard we passed by.”

  “It stings them, and paralyzes them?” Ivan said. “But why? To cocoon them and suck their blood later on like a spider?” He paused, suddenly remembering the wild boar, and the bodies. He pictured the strange organic material that grew from them. “That stuff…you think this thing planted it?”

  “No doubt,” Seymour said. Everyone looked back to Hawk, waiting for an explanation. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.

  “I’m not completely certain what that is. We’ve never woken the creature. That was Trevor’s doing. We haven’t observed its feeding characteristics, or mannerisms,” she said. “That’s the truth.”

  “Whatever it is, it does eventually kill them,” Sutton said. “We saw that those things gradually break down their host. Maybe those things break them down, and it feeds on them through a proboscis.”

  “But they’re still alive to start with?” Terrie said. “That means…”

  “Easley might still be alive!” Rex said.

  “Holy shit…yeah, it’s possible,” Sutton said. He looked at Seymour. “Boss, it’s VERY possible that Easley might still be alive. If we find him, and get him back on the plane, perhaps we
can get him treated.”

  Hawk wanted to speak. The truth was that, if they were to locate Easley, he would have to be placed in quarantine. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if the C.I.A. would even let him leave the island. However, considering the team’s determination and lack of trust in her, she knew it was best to keep that to herself. She focused on the big picture. She wanted the creature put down.

  “What if we run into that bastard again?” Sutton said.

  “Shit, man,” Ivan said, toting his machine gun. “You saw the blood trail out there. Its armor doesn’t cover its whole body. We know we can hurt it. It’s probably dying right now. I say, we finish it off and get our buddy back.”

  “I’m in favor,” Terrie said.

  A unanimous “Aye” echoed through the group.

  “Alright,” Seymour said. “We need to move quickly then. There’s another storm moving our way.” He looked toward the cave entrance, where Nagamine was standing guard. “Nag! You know what to do!”

  “Hai!” The tracker led the way. The team exited the cave and followed him into the jungle, as a distant rumble of thunder groaned in the distant sky.

  CHAPTER

  24

  Like a moving mountain range, a wall of storm clouds rolled toward the island. Their thunderous echoes grew stronger as they approached. The breeze transformed into a steady wind. The sunlight was growing steadily dim along the canopy.

  Hawk resisted the urge to hold her hand over her bruised face. Marching through the jungle, her mind zigzagged between her anxiety and her humiliation. Each glance toward Terrie brought a temptation for a skirmish. Hawk’s pride was diminished, having been bested so easily. Of course, Terrie was a much more seasoned, battle-hardened veteran, while Hawk by her own admission, spent much of her service in the lab.

  Each time her humiliation surfaced, it was quickly drowned out by the current situation. The jungle grew darker as the sunlight gradually diminished. She slowly began to regret this decision to pursue the creature. It clearly knew how to move within the jungle. While conscious of life and death, it didn’t seem to have fear. Each movement in the trees drew her attention. She felt as though it could be anywhere.

  Yet, they were following its blood trail. Nagamine took the lead, accompanied closely by Seymour. Every few feet, they found another trace, puddled in the ground or smeared in the leaves.

  The dark orange color contrasted heavily with the plants, making it easy to spot. They followed the trail for a half mile, by then the traces grew faint. Each smear on the leaves was no more than a few drips, and with more distance in-between.

  Nagamine held up a fist. The team held position, and he stepped further ahead. He kneeled at the ground, examining the brush. Seymour cautiously watched the surrounding jungle. His eyes memorized each twisted shape in the canvas, looking for anything resembling their new target.

  He looked back at Nagamine. The tracker glanced back at him, and waved him over.

  Seymour closed the distance and kneeled beside him. “What’s wrong?”

  Nagamine looked at him. “Trail’s gone.”

  “You think it’s dead?” Seymour asked. Nagamine shook his head. He stood up and led through a nearby bamboo bush. Seymour instinctively raised his weapon, pointing it down at the body laying behind the bush. Eight feet in length, the creature lay, covered in tiny maggots and worms.

  Black in color, its body was shriveled, as if there was nothing on the inside. The neck was completely ravaged where it had been shot. The fangs were completely missing from its face, leaving a gaping hole. Nagamine drew his Ninjato and reared his arm. He thrust the blade into the creature’s torso.

  The chest broke open effortlessly, revealing a hollow interior. Looking at the body, Seymour saw none of its armor or weaponry. He stepped behind the bush and waved to Hawk.

  She hurried over and observed the body. “Oh, Lord,” she muttered.

  “Agent, you know more about this than me,” Seymour said. “Is this what I think it is?”

  Hawk nodded. “It molted.” She stood up. “It might be a healing factor. Whenever it receives damage, it’ll shed its exterior exoskeleton. The process might help accelerate cell regeneration, and therefore repair any internal damage.”

  “Great, so is it back to full health?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Hawk said. “I didn’t sit and have a one-on-one with it. I was only here to oversee the transfer of equipment, and left before Dr. Trevor turned.”

  “Well, what we do know is that it could be anywhere,” Seymour said, looking all around at the surrounding jungle.

  “Shit,” Rex muttered.

  “Shh,” Terrie hissed at him. The team waited, keeping low in the bushes. Ivan glanced at his buddy, noticing him slightly bouncing on his toes.

  “Tee,” he whispered. “What’s the problem?”

  “I have to take a leak,” Rex said. Growing antsy, he continued watching Seymour converse with Hawk. The current level of threat seemed reasonably low, and the team wasn’t moving. He definitely did not want to be caught in a firefight, especially with this alien creature, with a full bladder. “Screw it,” he said. He moved over to the side. Sutton shook his head, silently criticizing the machine gunner as he walked into the jungle.

  “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding,” Ivan muttered to himself. He stood up and started following Rex.

  Rex started to unzip when he glanced back and saw Ivan approach.

  “What? You want a peek?” he joked.

  “Believe me when I say…I’d rather fucking die,” Ivan said. “Unfortunately, somebody’s gotta keep watch, otherwise your big ass will get picked off by that thing out there.”

  “What a hero,” Rex said. He proceeded to relieve himself, while Ivan scanned the jungle with his machine gun. His mind was a constant conversation, like a radio show in his head. They were hunting an honest-to-God alien. His mind frequently switched from amazement at the realization of the Pilot’s existence, to fear. They knew little about the creature itself other than what they’d seen so far. Then his mind centered on the prospect of killing it, to which his ego exploded. Being able to claim to be the only one to kill an extraterrestrial was an almost impossible feat.

  The drizzle coming from his friend seemed relentless. He really did have to go.

  Watching the plants, Ivan started feeling antsy. Only now did the lack of visibility really start bothering him. His mind replayed the Pilot’s emergence from the cave, how it snuck in and surprised the enemy.

  The wind blew, bringing the surrounding wilderness to life. Sensing all kinds of movement around him, Ivan tensed.

  Only one thing didn’t move. To the right, something was perfectly still. Perfectly round. Taller than a man. A face, looking at him through the trees. Ivan nearly shrieked as he pointed his gun.

  “No! No! Don’t!” Seymour shouted. Ivan whipped his head back, seeing his leader approaching. Rex had just zipped up, grinning at Ivan.

  Ivan looked back. The object was still there, nearly ten feet high. As the brush moved, he realized it was not upright, but held at a slant. It was non-alive and inanimate. Possibly a tree trunk. Whatever it was, it wasn’t the creature. He gave a strong exhale, then glanced back at his boss. Seymour walked past him toward the object.

  “Thank God I was about to chew your asses out for breaking formation,” Seymour said. “You almost blew us all up.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, Boss?” Ivan said. He joined Seymour, followed by the rest of the team. They approached the object. Cigar shaped, its red tip was propped up on a tree branch, covered in moss. Twenty-two feet in length, it laid at a slant, with its propellers embedded in the ground.

  “Oh shit…is that a torpedo?” Rex said.

  “Yeah,” Seymour said. He looked at Ivan. “Anti-ship torpedo left over from World War 2.”

  “All over Asia are unexploded ordinances such as these, leftover from the war,” Hawk said. “Europe too.”

  “Yeah, well, this one
almost became un-unexploded,” Seymour glared at Ivan.

  “A torpedo, eh,” Ivan said, “…from World War Two. I don’t recall seeing any submarines.” Seymour snickered and pointed up with his finger.

  Everyone gazed upward. Perched high in the two-hundred-foot tree, the plane rested in the branches, entangled in the canopy directly above them. Nearly fifty feet in length, with a wingspan of sixty-five feet, it had remained there for seventy-three years.

  “Yokosuka P1Y. It’s a heavy bomber,” Seymour said. “As you already figured out for yourself, it was shot down during the war, probably by our lovely USS Indianapolis, and ended up here. The torpedo had to have come loose when it crashed.” Seymour looked at the torpedo, then back up at the plane. “Since it didn’t get the chance to deliver the torpedo, it likely didn’t deliver its other payload.”

  “Two-thousand pounds of bombs,” Hawk said. Ivan cleared his throat, realizing he almost ignited a blast that would’ve nearly consumed the whole side of the island.

  “Now that the history lesson’s over, let’s carry on,” Seymour said. He faced the team. “There’s no more trail. Nag’s only found a couple more tracks, then the trail just disappears after.”

  “No problem,” Rex said. “Let’s just go in a sweep pattern and finish the job. Thing’s gotta be close to dead by now.”

  “Negative,” Seymour said. “It molted its skin, or what we thought was skin. It has like an exoskeleton, similar to bugs. Agent Hawk here thinks it might be part of a healing process.”

  “Alright, so lets un-heal it,” Terrie said. Seymour would’ve normally expected that answer from Ivan. The mercenaries were eager to save their brother.

  Another thunderous burst echoed from the sky. If they waited too much longer, they would have to hold up on the island until morning while Charlie flew out of range to avoid the storm.

  “Agent, Dr. Sutton, what is the estimated likelihood of survival for Craig Easley?”

  “At this point, slim,” Hawk said. “It’s been, what, a couple of hours now. Whatever it’s doing to the bodies, it’s probably well in effect on him now.”