by Alex Gore
“Death has come as a result of a bullet, that entered the frontal lobe of the brain… Only that usually I would add the phrase “because of a massive hemorrhage and irreversible brain death”. But here there is no hemorrhage, since there is no blood, Major. It is as if this ‘thing’ or this ‘creature’ does not need oxygen or metabolism as a whole. It has only a scanty quantity of some strange liquid, similar to acid, which is totally incompatible with live cells. It would rather burn any living creature on Earth, than support metabolism in the tissues.”
“I just need to know whether it can be killed by a bullet.” “I suppose so. But there is something awfully strange. Besides, the chemical analysis shows very unusual values. Its anatomy as well – it has no secretory system, no internal organs, no bladder, no kidneys. Digestive system is also missing – no stomach or intestines. There is just nervous tissue, a well formed and greatly folded brain. This thing obviously has an appearance and tissues, similar to those of humans, but is definitely not human.”
Marcela cut a piece from the calf and almost stuck it under Norman’s nose, who instinctively flinched his head back.
“Look at the muscle, see the muscle fibers.”
She splashed the piece of meat, similar to fillet, on the stable and stuck the scalpel deeper, removing a couple of thicker fibers. To Norman it seemed exactly like a pork chop.
“Here, Major, the muscle fibers are very hick and at the same time numerous.”
“You mean…”
“I mean that in appearance this thing has a similar structure to ours but is twice as strong. And this is not all. Look at the brain.” Marcela moved upward to the head and stuck her gloved hand inside the opening in the top of the skull.
“Here, look”, she said and stepped away from the lens of the microscope, so that Norman could take a peek. “Can you see?”
“No”, he replied. Frankly there were only some dots at the end of the tube and around them – smudgy pink background.
“These here are normal human nervous cells and these here belong to the ‘thing’. Can you see? The small dots are the nuclei of the cells. There are at least three times as many nuclei and respectively cells per a unit of area.”
“Does that mean it is cleverer than we are?”
“I am afraid it does mean exactly that, Major.”
“So, we have to deal with an alien form of life, that doesn’t need to feed or go to the toilet, has no blood and is definitely more intelligent than us, stronger, faster…”
“A better killing machine than us, Major.”
“Does it have any flaw?”
“Yes, Major, it can be killed. But only with a bullet in the head that can cut the nervous activity and stop the nervous impulses. The rest of the body is practically invincible, except in case of massive laceration.
The Canteen, Day 6, 10:41 p. m. This night unlike others they were eating silently and only the slight clatter of silver interrupted the deadly silence in the dining room.
Tension was pulsating in the stuffy air of the room. Their glances were hanging over the plates and nobody dared look into someone’s else’s eyes.
“What happens to the doubles after they kill us?” Michael was the first one to speak in the quietness.
“When the original version perishes, regardless in what manner, their double dies”, Hans answered.
“So, if we all die, they are toast”, Michael said, trying to clear the atmosphere with black humor.
“Stop it, Michael, let us try to find some more rational solution than our mass suicide”, Marcela cut him short. She was as pale as a sheet of paper and extremely scared.
“How can you be sure about that, Hans?” Alan asked.
“I am sure. Call it ‘scientific intuition’ if you must, but in vein of the principle of the annihilating of elementary particles with their anti-particles, I’m telling you that when the prototype of the ‘double’ dies, then the replica stops to exist as well. I suppose, they avail of information for the replicating of some form of energy information field from us. Their DNA must be in constant communication with ours, or else all functions cease. Believe me, when you are not here, your double is not here either.”
Norman’s radio buzzed, so he answered and after three words from the other end of the line he jumped instantly from his chair and dashed out of the door.
Outside the hurricane was at its worst. There was no a trace of the beautiful desert from three days ago, the storm had turned the sunny vast territory into a black freezing blind hell.
Norman had the feeling that all the fucking sand in Sahara was up in the air, whirling and trying to enter through his eyes, mouth and nose. He was walking almost as a blind man, having covered his head with a scarf, hardly seeing through the protective goggles the lights of the projectors inside the base.
“What’s going on, Lieutenant? What was that on the radio?” “As I told you, we have three dead bodies and munitions are missing from the warehouse, Sir. The bodies belong to two of the sergeants on duty and to Miss Tarantino.”
“How did it happen?”
“One is torn to pieces, the other one is cut by a big tool, probably an axe… The woman died from a bite on her neck, like in a horror movie for vampires.”
“This is her double! Take the body immediately to the biology room for further investigation.”
“Yes, Sir! There are broken ribs, her chest was practically smashed with enormous weight and force. Death has occurred almost instantaneously.”
“Take in the bodies for an autopsy and… Fuck this damned wind!” The storm had almost dragged the scarf off Norman’s head and moved his goggles.
“There is one thing more, Sir…”
“Say it, because too many new things heaped on me today!”
“Near the woman’s dead body we found a phone, tuned for detonation.”
“Hers?”
“Probably not. Its menu is in Russian.”
“A saboteur, obviously.” Norman did not seem too surprised.
“Yes, Sir. The phone is here, but the detonators are missing.”
At this moment the Sergeant approached.
“Sir, we found the body of Colonel Ivanov. You’ve got to see it, Sir.”
“Take us there, Sergeant.”
Norman bent over the Russian’s huge body, lying lifeless on the sand about twenty yards away from the one of the female double. A bloody trail was connecting them. Ivanov had left it, dragging on the ground. He had clearly remained alive after the fight despite the great blood loss and was trying to seek for help.
The Major leaned and touched his heart. Though barely felt, there were slight movements of the chest.
“But he is alive, for God’s sake! Take him to her! Quickly!”
Central dome, Day 7, 00:11 a. m. The Cube was there. It stood imperturbably motionless like when they saw it for the first time. Only its light was changed from bluish-green to bright red.
“Do you think this thing can be destroyed at all?” Marcela asked. Her question was obviously directed at Hans.
“I don’t know, there must be a way… The bad side of it is that we don’t have an idea what it is actually and what it is made of. You can only kill something if you know how it lives. If you don’t know birth, how could you possibly understand death?”
“But we know how it lives.” The latest events had broken Alan and he had lost his habitual positive enthusiasm and energy. “It lives through the doubles and that’s how it affects us, don’t you think?”
“I suggest we destroy it by an explosion, while it’s not too late”, Norman interfered.
“I don’t believe they would let us do it”, Marcela said. “And I deeply doubt that this ‘thing’ is vulnerable to our weapons. You shouldn’t have brought it here.”
“To begin with, the Russians from the submarine shouldn’t have taken it from wherever they found it”, Hans added. “But it is here and we need to destroy it. I believe I can guess how.”
&n
bsp; At this moment the lights went out and everybody froze in the darkness. It was quiet.
Like in a coffin.
All hell broke loose with the bang of a rock falling through the ceiling. Glass, people and metal mingled in a heap of rubble.
The ceiling of the dome collapsed in pieces over the heads of the group with monumental crash and the doubles rushed against them.
Two of the soldiers were instantly torn to pieces.
The monsters were silent assassins, they acted with perfect accuracy and precise movements, as if consuming the small space of the room. They did not utter a sound, probably they could not even talk, only the ferocious flames in their cannibal glances were an evidence that they were not machines, but alive creatures.
The Lieutenant was thrown onto the ground.
He was fighting one of the creatures, employing all the power of his short and sturdy limbs. Ivanov’s double, heavy as a roller machine, had pressed his chest with its knee and was just intending to bite his neck with those enormous sharp teeth, when Babyface caught with his right hand one of the tumbled down computers. With astonishing force he raised the heavy metal box and, using just his wrist, smashed it against the head of the creature. It stumbled and lost its balance for a moment. This second was enough for the Lieutenant, who jumped with quick thinking, grabbed he monster and pinned it to the ground. His right hand was holding its neck, stopping its ability to move its head and get oriented in space. The fingers of the Lieutenant’s left hand were feverishly fumbling for his pistol that had slipped from the holster and fallen on the floor. The creature was madly waving its limbs in the air, trying to free itself.
The double stretched in a way, impossible for a man, and kicked Babyface in the back so hard that the Lieutenant tumbled forward over his head. However, his left hand was now holding the gun. He fell on his face but managed to turn over quick as a lightning and fired at the head of his adversary, which was almost touching him.
The brain of the creature burst in thousands of small pieces and splashed some acidic liquid over the Lieutenant’s pleasant face. He got up, wiping his lips with his sleeve, and looked around for his companions.
Struggling bodies were rolling on the floor. The red lights in the eyes of the doubles were moving in the darkness like huge and fast fireflies.
The metal bar from the roof hit Marcela on the forehead and she almost lost consciousness. She saw only shadows, while her ears were ringing from the swish of bodies flying around. She thought she was dying. The surprising attack had left no room for fear and now she was conquered by some strange peace before death.
She had the feeling that the flash of the bullet moved towards her head for several seconds before the bang deafened her completely.
She thought of the lightnings. Her ears started ringing again and then deadly silence followed.
Marcela closed her eyes, waiting for her end and laid low on the floor. Alan threw himself over her to protect her. Shots were heard. Norman was firing at the red spots, moving around the room, careful not to shoot someone of his own group.
A second later the double of one of the soldiers threw itself against him and pushed the gun from his grip. Norman caught the creature, trying to throw it on the floor, then took out the knife from the sheath on his waist and without any hesitation dug it in the double’s head, between the eyes.
The Major felt the iron grip around his chest loosening and glanced around in search for more red eyes.
At the same time Alan, with Marcela cuddled beneath him, felt an enormous weight on his back as if a ton of sand was loaded on him. Something warm bit the back of his neck, he was overwhelmed by sharp pain and dizziness.
His first thought was to protect Marcela. He felt as if he was drunk, as if he was injected with poison and could not reason straight. Thinking only of her and how to save her from those beasts, he had no idea at all whether he himself was wounded or not.
His self-preservation instincts were off.
He turned over in order to relax the pressure on her and together with the creature, that had grabbed him, rolled over and crashed against the wall. It was completely dark and Alan could not see anything; he heard a shot and the noise of fighting in the room. He was not sure where the ceiling and where the floor were, and with his last remaining strength he managed to kick off the creature aside. The double was pushed away but at the last moment, like someone sinking under water, grabbed Alan’s leg. Alan knew there was no way for him to extract his limb from the pitiless iron vise. At this moment a pair of blood-red eyes lowered towards his face and he felt the sharp smell of carrion against his lips.
Then a dull blow came in his crotch, a body, thrusting against his own, some warm liquid squirted over his face and he tasted fresh blood in his mouth.
He felt sick but did not have the strength to throw up.
The pain was only momentous, but the sharpest he had ever felt. His leg hurt as if a thousand knives were stuck in his flesh.
Then he lost consciousness.
Watchtower, Day 7, 3:14 a. m. The Sergeant saw how most of the lights in the Base went out. The strong wind was blowing sand in the eyes and blurred his vision. He was ordered to keep his duty down on the ground because of the hurricane danger and, really, the forty five feet construction was moving like an overturned pendulum and hardly anyone would like to stand on its highest point at this moment. However, from his position in the base of the watchtower his zone of vision was too limited and he could barely distinguish the outlines of the camp.
He felt a tap on his back, turned around and saw the Major. “What are you doing here, Sir?” Norman’s face was mostly covered. He had twisted some white cloth around his head like a true Bedouin. He approached the soldier and with a quick shot of his hand squeezed his throat, then grabbed his testicles. The man on duty was so shocked by the surprise attack, that stood frozen. He felt a stinging pain between his legs which crawled along his stomach and up towards the chest. Darkness fell before his eyes, his head felt heavy as lead, pulsating, and now he saw only the light, coming from a gloomy tunnel.
Norman’s double pushed the dead body among the crates under the shed of the watchtower and went away.
An explosion. Then another one.
The ammunition warehouses and the watchtower were in flames.
Hall for biological research, main dome, Day 7, 4:40 a. m. He saw shadows, moving slowly in the darkness of the room and in his ears a misaligned grinding device was screeching. The shadows were talking among each other, he was sure of that, but as much as he strained, he could not understand just what they were saying. He felt as if terribly drunk, it had happened to him once when he was a university student – he poisoned himself with different varieties of alcohol and his body surrendered on him. He was young and wild back then, and after the heavy drinking session his life was saved with lots of efforts in the emergency room. He was in a coma and was almost not going to make it, at least that was what he was told.
The few memories that he kept from reanimation back then were very similar to what he felt now. The same cold insensitivity and panic fear of not being able to feel your own skin. No sense of cold or stinging. Even the strong hands of the colossal chief nurse, shaking his shoulders, felt like gentle caresses.
“Do you think he’s in pain?” “I doubt it, I completely drugged him with pain-killers, so he must hardly realize where he is.”
“He has lost a lot of blood and needs to go to a hospital. Infusions, an urgent operation…”
Alan was gradually coming out of the haze and could distinguish Marcela’s voice.
She was so exquisitely beautiful and he wanted very much to tell it to her. He had craved for it ever since he saw her.
“March, you are awesome… I love you…” he lisped.
“Here, now he is talking deliriously. He is drugged and stabilized now, but if we don’t take him to a hospital, he will soon be in a coma.”
Alan thought that her voice was like a Sha
kespearean sonnet, kind, gentle, filled with love.
“Alan, Alan, wake up! How are you feeling? Does it hurt somewhere?” This was the not so gentle Major’s voice.
“Yes, yes, I’m okay. Nothing hurts, I’m just a bit dizzy. Where am I? What happened? I can’t remember anything.”
“You suffered an accident during the attack, Alan, you are seriously hurt. You need a doctor.” His head felt heavy again and he drifted into uneasy sleep.
Control room, central dome, Day 7, 6:20 a. m.
“So… gentlemen, our situation is quite grave”, Norman said. He was standing in front of them with a torn uniform and bandaged head, all dirty with blood and sand. His face was grim and smeared, just his big eyes were flashing with their typical daring flame. Now he was more responsible for them than ever before. There was no way he could let them down.
The rest were sitting on the remains of the furniture with dropped heads and blurred eyes.
“I guess it couldn’t be any worse” Michael said. He didn’t look at all well with his split eyebrow and a bandaged left hand. He felt like this was the worst hangover in his life, but with his usual light smile tried to encourage them. “We could be dead, but I guess death is preferable to hangover.”
“Only the five of us are left, plus Alan and Ivanov, who are in the biological hall. The Russian is better now, luckily, we have about ten liters of frozen blood and we started infusions. I believe he will be fully restored in a couple of days. However, Alan is in bad state and needs an urgent operation. Otherwise he will die. As you know, his left leg was torn away and his condition deteriorates by the hour. Colonel Ivanov will answer before a court martial for his actions. I have solid proof that he tried to sabotage our mission from the start and I will hold him responsible for the death of several people. However, he cannot be denied the strength and courage, since he managed to kill with bare hands Marcela’s double.”
“Bless him for killing me” Marcela said. She shivered at the very thought of those creatures.
“He lost a lot of blood but is stable at the moment and can even walk. And since I have no men to spare for his guarding, I locked him with handcuffs to the bed, so that he would not escape.”