Necrocide

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Necrocide Page 3

by Jonathan Davison


  Bravely moving forward, Hans felt a slight incline and a curious effect. He could still only see his most immediate surroundings, that being his own body from the light rising from below. Feeling the need to look back up to the hatch for peace of mind, he was surprised to see that the portal of light was not where he had expected it to be. As his only reference to his motion within the metallic cavern, he now felt as if he could not trust his own senses for in this place, it was if the laws of physics were somehow defied. The hatch was no longer directly above him, it was across the way, askew. The only sensible rationale that Hans could place upon this effect was that he was inside a large sphere and he had somehow been given the capability of walking around it as if gravity no longer applied. Reality it seemed had taken a temporary step to the side and allowed pure dreamlike fantasy to reign. Hans shook his head in befuddlement. He briefly imagined trying to explain this experience to a senior. Surely, anyone would think him quite mad.

  “I am moving further in, I am experiencing...disorientation, I am safe however.” Hans spoke loudly. He was now not sure his voice could be heard by his team above; maybe it was for his own benefit. His own voice was a sweet companion in this place. No answer was forthcoming but the Colonel did not let that faze him. The German pressed on.

  Minutes passed and Hans' pace quickened. He almost found the light that he created with his motion playful and he began to skip over the surface in order to create intricate patterns and intensities of light. The colours seemed to change from yellowy hues to greens and blues and Hans found it quite delightful. Hans had no sense of direction as such; the odd look back to the hatch seemed only to confuse him as it never seemed to remain where he left it. The only thing it did offer him was a sense of scale. This place was vast and it was clear that they had only discovered a fraction of its exterior. Was it pure chance that they had stumbled across an entrance to this place or was it part of some kind of plan. If it were, it would suggest that someone knew of their intentions and that seemed remarkable and unlikely.

  Having only the featureless dark surface to use as some kind of guide, a moment of relief came when the smooth barren floor became more detailed. Not all at once, but with every step, lines, impressions and indecipherable markings began to become evident and with that, the intensity and the colour of the light also changed. The soft colourful hues began to lose their saturation and a white, hotter light was emitted. Hans' pace increased as it seemed that whatever he was moving towards was rewarding him for his progress. The light began to spread wider and this illumination began to give him spatial awareness. As the environment around him became lit, looking back, the bright white hatch was no longer to be seen and it seemed that he had perhaps moved beyond the point where the penetrative light could break through this curious atmosphere.

  Before this point, Hans had surmised that this place was perhaps one vast cavern, a single space many hundreds of metres wide, but now it became more clear that this was a maze of halls, conduits and chambers. The soft edgeless walls seemed to blend into one another visually until you were virtually upon them, only then did they reveal their presence. It was now apparent that Hans was walking down an ever narrowing corridor that curved around to the point that he could never make out the terminus. Hans had to ponder where was he going? Was there a point to all of this? How was he ever going to find his way back to the surface? One thing was certain in Hans' mind. Whoever designed this glacial maze could not have been born of this time. This was not a clunky canister pieced together by sheets of steel and bolted together. This was a place of fantasy and awe. The dark greys and blacks of the halls were sporadically lined with colourful pigmentations that seemed at first random, but on closer inspection held great detail and form. This was a wonderland and Hans' felt every bit the child Alice in this astonishing world.

  It seemed that the German had finally reached his destination. The light was now all encompassing and so intense that he felt the need to squint a little. The dark halls seemed to throb as they emitted their luminescence, turning what was once a darkened cavern into a bright white, clean and ethereal place. It would seem that Hans had entered a great hall. The ceiling was indeterminable in the wash of light but it was immediately evident that this was the hub, the complex at the heart of the anomaly. The hall felt so vast to Hans that it could have been the abode to a number of giants who he imagined striding around majestically as would a captain of his vessel.

  Conduits of light dance about the walls. They reminded Hans of droplets of rain running down a window but these globules of light were running horizontally. Their speed of movement appeared random as they either crawled or raced around the room. It was then that Hans was drawn to a structure in the centre of the hall and without fear, he moved towards it. In this seemingly barren place of energies and colour, it was perhaps the only thing which seemed incongruent to the surroundings.

  On nearing the platform which appeared to stretch high above him till the brightness of the ceiling clouded his vision, Hans could see a series of smaller structures and it seemed the more he looked, the more he saw. The longer he lingered, the greater amount of detail was revealed. At the base of the central column, a structure, which Hans could only describe as a peculiar reclined 'chair' was placed and at the head, an array of conduits which fizzled with electric-like energy. Aside from this central structure, many more columns could be seen in the distance. The intensity of light was such that only moving closer to these obelisk-like structures would reveal their true detail. Hans had come this far, he was not going to head back now. His curiosity overpowered his reasoning and for some reason, he felt supremely calm although it was getting a little too hot for him, still clad in his cold weather clothing.

  Unfastening his heavy coat, he pulled it from his shoulders and carefree, dropped it to the ground. The atmosphere was not stifling or humid; it was clean and easy to breathe. Hans did not take the time to wonder what the source of this atmosphere was or how this incredible place was powered. He was far more drawn by a mysterious object in the near distance, a familiar outline, one he was obliged to investigate.

  CHAPTER 5

  Hans stood at the base of the obelisk and looked up and to his past, his very distant past. Silent and still, a figure hung, supported by a fizzling matrix of dancing energy. It was familiar to Hans but only due to its human-like form, the rest was familiar only from books he had studied as a child.

  “My God.” Hans muttered to himself as his gaze dwelt upon the forlorn figure of what he could only describe as an 'ape-man'. Naked, the fairly diminutive figure's body was covered in fine dark hair. His arms and legs were muscular but not free from savage scars and his head was large and bearded. The man’s face was robust, his brow and jaw defined, a thick black set of eyebrows were a prominent feature. It was clear immediately to Hans that this was not a 'modern' man and if it was, then the facial structures could only be described as a deformity. More like, he thought, that this figure represented something that anthropologists would call a 'Neanderthal' or similar. Hans could only imagine scientists clamouring to catch a glimpse of this individual. There seemed no doubt in Hans' mind that this was a face from the past, perfectly preserved in this web of light.

  Hans resisted the will to move forward, reach up and touch the skin of this creature. He wanted to know if he was cold. He surely did look dead but he simply could not tell by looking. There was a colour in his skin that defied that hypothesis. Hans suddenly wondered how he would react if this creature sprang to life. He himself was weapon-less, his rifle still laid upon his desk back in the shelter. It was unlikely that this man if suddenly resurrected would have the communication skills to reason.

  Hans stood a while in contemplation. It began to occur to the German that this ancient man must have had some kind of purpose. Did he stumble upon this place like Hans, thousands of years ago? Was he somehow captured and suspended in time and if so, would the same fate befall himself? Was it now time to leave this place and
be thankful for escaping with his life?

  Hans regarded the array of obelisks which extended down the hall out of view although unlike the one that housed the ape-man, the others appeared empty. He once again looked back at the large and clearly important central platform which baffled him also. The soft outlines of the 'chair' seemed to draw his attention. It was the only structure in the whole fantastic place which seemed designed for a clear purpose. It was familiar in a recognisable kind of way. It did not hold as much bafflement as the other fixtures. Hans paced over to the large seat which was raised up on a plinth, and it seemed to crackle with energy as Hans' body grew near. The chair was similar in material to the walls and floors, it was metallic looking yet it shared the soft, translucence of the rest of the cavern.

  Hans felt compelled to use the comfort of the seat. His feet were weary and he could use the respite. Despite his misgivings, he climbed up to the chair and ran a finger across one of its arms. The pressure of his first digit seemed to tingle his whole arm. It was a curious sensation, a comforting, numbing feeling. Hans shook his head; he knew that common sense dictated that he leave this investigation to someone far more qualified yet a compulsion remained to be the first; the pioneer who discovered this incredible place.

  Carefully edging his backside into the sculpted seat of the chair, Hans immediately felt numbed, physically detached from his own consciousness. It was alarming at first but as the seconds passed, he grew to like the sensation. All of his physical maladies ebbed away. His feet were no longer sore, his throat that had been dry for a couple of weeks no longer troubled him and a pleasant euphoric detachment was welcomed.

  Hans leaned back and closed his eyes; this was indeed an experience that he would like to share with the rest of his crew. The German felt an itching sensation across his right forearm and moved to scratch himself. A torrent of doubt washed over him when suddenly, he realised that he could not relieve the irritation as his arms no longer responded to his will. Trying desperately to open his eyes but failing, Hans was quickly panicked by this paralysis and struggled to wriggle free of the inexorable force which pinned his body to the chair. He attempted to cry out but it seemed that even this basic action had been stripped away. All that was left of Hans Bauer in a fleeting moment was his very consciousness.

  Hans' mind was a maelstrom of sound and light. He felt as if he was being pulled around, tumbling and turning in a vortex of dazzling, abstract visions. Hans lost all concept of time and when he was coherent enough to piece together a logical thought, he struggled to work out if he had been departed from his senses for a few seconds or a few years. Gradually, it seemed that his senses were returning to some kind of normality. He began to feel physical sensation. He was cold, very cold. His eyes fluttered and slowly, a piercing light shattered the darkness and he groaned as the light overloaded his senses and hurt his head. He tried to speak but a wheezing grunt was all that he could muster. He began to acclimatise to surroundings and his bodily awareness started to return. He was still alive, that much he knew.

  Hans was running, or at least he thought he was. There was light all around, confusing, dazzling. His vision was blurred and he could barely make out his hand in front of his face. He was coherent but not fully in charge of his own actions, still he felt as if he was being compelled to run although he did not know from what he was escaping. The light that tormented him began to fade and his pace slowed. The darkness although welcome in some respects was like a fog and he was running blind now, not know what direction to turn. The darkness was like a vacuum, it sucked the air from his lungs, it hindered his thoughts and although he did not like the light, he began to yearn it once more.

  Suddenly, there was hope. A small bright white salvation in the distance. Despite his legs feeling heavier by the second, Hans knew that he must head towards the narrow rectangular beam. It was surely the way out. Hans remembered his friends waiting for him at the hatch, they would be there to offer him the rope, and they would hoist him to safety. Hans would once again see the sun and feel the wind upon his face.

  The entrance grew larger in Hans' blurred vision, he kept his gaze fixed upon his goal for he feared that if he glanced away it we be gone. Struggling to call out, he did not know if he was making any sounds. His hearing told him no, but the sensations from his throat and chest would suggest otherwise. Feeling the vertical rope in his face, Hans' climbed up it with haste. There was desperation to leave this place now that fired every nerve ending in his body giving him strength that he did not think possible. The rope became light work in his dizzying state and soon the comforting voices of his comrades could be heard shouting above although the words seemed to make little sense.

  Reaching the summit of his climb, Hans could see the bodies of his friends moving about above. Hans extended his hand, yearning to feel the warm flesh of another to aid him and in doing so, end this torment. No helping hand was forthcoming. Hans looked up into the eyes of a familiar face but there was not welcoming warmth in the man's eyes. There was only fear.

  Hans thrashed around. So close to the summit of his climb, he became agitated and cried out. Looking up again, he saw the familiar man with something in his grasp. Confused, Hans whined with exasperation. Why were his people not helping him?

  There was a flash and a shattering noise. Searing pain ripped through Hans' body and his grip upon the rope was compromised. As his body fell back into the abyss, the bullet's trajectory had seen to it that it blew asunder his valiant heart and by the time his weighty bulk had thudded sickeningly to the hard metal floor, Hans' body had already succumbed to oblivion.

  *

  Hans awoke with a violent start. Seconds passed whilst the German's eyes were as wide as saucers, his heart pounding in his ears. Hans was still sitting in the chair, stiff as a board until a panic set in so profound that he leapt to his feet and stumbled away from the confounding device. On his hands and knees, he looked up to the obelisk where the ape-man had hung. The hairy figure had disappeared as had the dancing web of light that suspended him there.

  Without a realistic idea of how much time had passed since he had first taken a seat in the accursed chair, Hans, now clear headed and motivated to escape this chamber made haste in the direction from which he came. As before, the light began to fade as he skipped away from the centre of the cavern and soon, the disorienting darkness returned.

  Tens of minutes passed of hopelessly fumbling around in the blackness. Looking all about him, Hans yearned to see the streaming light of the opened hatch once more. The only clue to his general direction was the fading light beneath his feet and as long as it grew darker, he felt comfort that he was one step closer to liberty. Gasping with delight, the hatch slowly came into view as the black fog began to lift. Hans shouted out at the top of his voice, no longer inhibited by fear.

  “Hullo! Can you hear me?”

  Hans' voice echoed around the vast open space and a brief reply of 'Yes!' brought a welcome sensation of joy to the German officer. By the time Hans had reached the rope, he had moved to a gentle jog thus when finally reaching the ground below the aperture, he stumbled over and fell flat on his face when the bulk of something unseen had taken him by surprise. Plucking his small torch from his pocket, it was then he realised that the fallen corpse of the ape-man had caused him to crash to the ground. Warm blood seeped from the shattered skull of the fleeing creature and a small but significant hole in his chest was apparent to the officer who had seen many similar gunshot wounds.

  “Cortese! It is Hans. Do not shoot!” Hans cried out as he relived the terrifying and confusing moments of the Neanderthals demise.

  “Colonel, are you unhurt?” The Italian called back down, the stress clearly evident in his voice.

  “I am. Get me out of here for God's sake.” Hans appealed as the past hours toils had clearly taken a very grave toll.

  As the German clung to the rope with white knuckles, he relived in his mind the moment. For some inexplicable reason, he fea
red what lay ahead when he reached the summit of the climb. The Neanderthals last moments reverberated around his psyche. They would never leave him for as long as he lived.

  “Here, give me your hand!” Cortese called out as Hans grew near.

  “Gladly.” The German replied, his hand shaking.

  Pulling the exhausted officer up into the cold atmosphere, the coat-less German quickly noticed the chill of the air.

  “Did you see it?” Cortese asked, his voice wobbling under the stress. “It was a monster, climbing out of the pit. We shot at it, I don't know if I hit it.” The Italian's voice trailed off, he was clearly upset by the incident.

  Hans sucked in huge breaths of cool air and noticed his whole team around him awaiting some kind of confirmation that everything would be alright.

  “Yes. You got it.” He said solemnly. Hans paused as if clearing his mind to decide on a course of action.

  “No one goes in there...no one.”

  CHAPTER 6

  PORTSMOUTH, ENGLAND

  JUNE 6th 1944

  A gentle vibration rumbled through John Hawkins body as he sat upon the uncomfortable metal grill. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he tried to find a position whereby the ships engines did not rattle his teeth. Space aboard the HMS Ajax was at a premium and the rank of Private did not afford you the privilege of accommodation of the like that the officers saw. Boot laces tightened fast and every pocket filled with gear whether necessary or completely surplus to requirements, it made getting comfortable for the nights journey next to impossible. Hawkins rested the weight of his body upon the giant backpack that accompanied him and he held the weight of his head on his elbow until some unscrupulous colleague kicked it from beneath him.

 

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