The Void

by Greig Beck

  Sam lifted his hand from Alex’s shoulder. “Boss?”

  Alex turned to throw a punch at the hull of the ship that made the entire craft ring like a bell and left a huge dent in the steel wall.

  “We’re losing too many.” Alex held his head for a moment, easing the pain he felt inside. “Too many.”

  No one spoke, but just all breathed heavily, waiting for the adrenalin to cool in their veins, watching for what happened next.

  “The Russians are infected,” Sam said at last.

  “I don’t get it,” Casey said. “Why aren’t the fucking Russians changing as fast as Dunsen? He went from being okay, to becoming like those Morg things in minutes.”

  Alex paused. “They must be different somehow. Maybe something in their metabolism that fights the change, or infection or whatever it is. They’re still changing, but at a slower pace.”

  “We’re all dead,” Russell whispered.

  Alex spun to point at his face. “Stop that.”

  “The strength, speed, and rapid healing – I heard rumors,” Casey said. “About these Russian Special Forces guys called Kurgan. They were supposed to be as badass as we are. But hyped up with changes to their DNA.”

  “Well, they’re damn well getting worse now,” Monroe said, and motioned over his shoulder to the bay area. “Can’t be long before those guys are the same as Dunsen, or those monstrosities roaming around outside somewhere.”

  “They’re fucking everywhere.” Casey showed her teeth.

  Sam tilted his head back. “And they’re inside the Orlando now.” He turned to Alex. “The enemy within.”

  “And without,” Alex responded.

  “We’re gonna get squeezed real soon.” Sam looked around at the tiny cockpit. “Can’t stay in here, boss.”

  Russell Burrows walked toward the front cockpit window and stared out at the darkening clouds. “Our astronauts, Mitch, Gerry, and Beth, were the first infected. They survived the crash-landing or perhaps had just enough humanity left to bring the ship down. But then they quickly changed, no, evolved, into something else once they were here with continual exposure to the biological gas.”

  Alex stared out through the cockpit window. “And once we run out of oxygen, we either learn to hold our breath, or we breathe in the biological mist too.”

  “I ain’t breathing that shit, no time, never,” Monroe said evenly.

  “None of us are.” Alex turned. “Our primary objectives were to secure the image-data chip, and if any astronauts were alive to bring them home. These things are not our astronauts, so that part of our mission is now nullified.”

  “They are,” Anne demanded hotly.

  “Priority now is to get us all out alive. If those things out there want to live, then they better learn to stay outta of our way.” Alex glared.

  “Easier said than done.” Russell sighed. “This is their home now. This is what they’ve adapted to, and I’m betting they can see through this fog clear as day.” He rose. “They’re faster, stronger, and damned hardier than we are. They may try to stop us.”

  “And there’ll be even more of them soon,” Sam said turning to Alex, and motioning to the bay area. “We need to make a plan, ASAP.”

  “Then let’s get that chip, and get the hell outta here.” Alex squared his shoulders. “HAWCs are you ready?”

  “HUA!”

  “You’re going to fight them?” Morag said. “In here?”

  Alex turned. “They can always surrender.”

  “Nah, we kill ’em all,” Casey said enthusiastically.

  “But, what happens if you lose? What happens to us?” Anne said quietly.

  Casey threw her head back and laughed. “Well then, girlie, you get to try out your communication theory.”

  CHAPTER 29

  “Sam, Monroe, Franks, with me.” Alex looked at Russell. “And going to need your expertise as well, Mister Burrows.”

  “Me?” Russell Burrows’ mouth dropped open.

  “You bet. It’s your bus,” Casey sneered.

  “Everyone else, once we go through that door, lay flat on the ground,” Alex said – no one needed to ask why.

  “What’s the plan, boss?” Sam asked, rolling huge shoulders.

  “We ask nicely.” Alex readied himself. “Once.” He reached out a hand to the door-locking button. He held up three fingers, counting them down. Then he punched it.

  Alex went in first to the bay area of the Orlando shuttle. The mist here was thicker inside than out.

  Sam was beside him and the NASA engineer was nervously trying to see around one of the enormous HAWC’s armored shoulders. Alex saw that the Russians had sealed the rip in the side of the craft using metal rods and spare panels and all lashed together with cable. They were obviously intent on keeping something out.

  Alex held up a hand, and the HAWCs stopped to stare. The three hulking men all had their backs turned and were gathered around something at the rear of the bay area.

  “What the fu …” Casey pointed her RG3, but Alex waved it down.

  “Wait here.”

  Alex eased up behind the men and saw they were fixated on some sort of long, dark rock. He immediately felt the warmth coming off it, and it made his skin tingle – radiation.

  He leaned toward Russell. “Mister Burrows, stay back. There’s radiation coming off this thing. Our suits will give us some protection, yours won’t.”

  Russell fumbled a small Geiger counter from his pack, and held it up. “This must be it; the asteroid fragment that the Orlando crew recovered from space. I remember …” His voice fell away for a moment, as his mind probably took him back to the event. He pointed to toward the long rock. “I remember watching them grab it from space. We expected it to be radioactive. But it’s tolerable, for a while. Wouldn’t want to stay to close for too long, but we’re okay for now.” He lowered his arm. “Recovering this was the last thing they did.”

  Sam nodded. “Just before everything went to shit.”

  “Yes.” Russell waved his hand in front of himself, making the fog swirl. “This has got to be where the gas is emanating from. Whatever is inside that space rock, it’s reacting with the Earth’s atmosphere, oxidizing somehow, and creating a chemical imbalance and biological reaction.” He craned forward and his brows pulled together. “What the hell is that?”

  Alex turned, but the three Russians seemed to close ranks even more. Whatever was inside was more important to the Russians than worrying about the HAWCs.

  “Hey, step aside,” Alex demanded.

  Sam came and stood at his shoulder. “You heard the man, step the hell aside.”

  One of the Russians turned; his totally dark eyes seemed to swim as if he was drugged. Sam stepped up, grabbed his shoulder and tugged him back a step. The Russian seemed in a trance, and even though Sam had pulled him back another few feet, he just turned once again to the rock.

  “They’ve zoned out.” Sam looked down at the rock, and then staggered back. “What the hell?”

  Alex felt his skin crawl. The surface of the dark purplish rock glittered with some sort of crystalline composition, but there was a rent in its side, and a cavity where within its depths something throbbed with a revolting life. It looked like a giant blob of mucus-covered jelly.

  “Looks like a freaking brain,” Sam said and lifted his weapon.

  The biggest of the Russians, Zlatan he had said his name was, spun, and then stepped in front of Sam. “No!”

  Alex looked from the blob to the Russian. The huge man stared, large eyes now almost lidless. His other men still stood staring down at the glistening blob of jelly, as if its rhythmic beating transfixed them.

  Alex pointed with his gun. “What is it?”

  “I, I don’t know.” The Russian shrugged massive lumped shoulders. “I can’t explain. But it’s calling to us.”

  “Calling to you? To do what?” Sam asked.

  Zlatan turned his huge browed forehead. “To join with it …” He shoo
k his head slowly. “It sings.” He lapsed into silence.

  Russell tried to edge closer, but found it difficult to move past the Russians. He settled for holding out a long slim probe. We waved aside the gas that was rising from it. “I think this is also where the mold is coming from. It’s the source of both the atmosphere change and the growth.” He indicated where the slime-coated cavity was spilling some of its contents to the floor.

  “Looks like we found our genesis point,” Alex said.

  Casey snorted. “This shuttle crashed less than three days ago. And already this crap has spread over several miles. What in the world grows like that?”

  Russell retreated a few steps. “Well actually, some molds can spread below forest floors for hundreds of miles.” He turned back. “But you’re right, nothing at all spreads at this rate.” He looked up. “On this world anyway.”

  Alex grunted. “It’s affecting everything and everyone here that’s been exposed to it.” He looked again at Zlatan, and then at the fragment. “We need to destroy it.”

  Zlatan and his men spun then, and stood shoulder to shoulder, forming a wall of flesh in front of it.

  Sam lowered his brow. “Seems our new buddies might have a problem with that.”

  Casey pointed at them. “And I have a fucking problem with them.”

  “We just want the satellite data.” Alex looked at each of the hulking, deformed men – they seemed even bigger and more monstrous. He was still prepared to take them on, but knew now there’d be a good chance his team could get a tear in their suits, and end up exposed like the Russians.

  Zlatan continued to stare with his lidless black eyes. “They’ll be coming back soon.”

  Alex looked to the makeshift barriers over the hole in the bay area wall. “You’ve sealed them out.”

  “We put a few holes in them,” said Casey. “They’ll think twice about trying anything again soon.”

  “They haven’t gone anywhere,” Zlatan said. He pointed to a pile of bones and cloth material heaped in the corner. “Because this is their home.”

  Alex saw the wads of insulating foam rubber, soiled and torn spacesuit material, and other debris, and he knew Zlatan was right.

  Alex felt the urgency burning inside him. “We just want the …”

  Zlatan turned away from him, staring toward the makeshift barrier. “And now, you have only minutes before they return.”

  “Oh god.” Russell started to edge back toward the door to the command cabin. “We need to leave.”

  “Boss, we can’t fight ’em all.” Sam kept his eyes on the Russians. “Live to fight another day.”

  The buzzing in Alex’s head grew louder, more insistent. The Russians parted slightly and Sam made a guttural sound in his throat. “Ah … that thing.” He lifted his arm in front of his face to shield it.

  Alex turned to the meteorite fragment and grimaced. The foul, pulsating sack inside quivered slightly. He could feel a tingling running through his stomach and tickling in his head – he didn’t like it.

  “Let’s get out of here; that thing is giving off some sort of wave-like pulse and it’s giving me the creeps.”

  Casey pointed with two fingers at the throbbing entity. “We should just fucking destroy—” She abruptly stopped and a bewildered look came over her. “What did I …?”

  The weird buzzing deep inside Alex’s head rose to become like a blizzard of noise. He turned to Casey, and was about to ask what she meant, when he simply … forgot.

  He gritted his teeth, blocking it out. Sam was right; if they engaged, they’d struggle just to take down the Russians. But what if the Morg decided to bust in while they were locked in? They wouldn’t survive being attacked by both groups.

  Alex pointed at Zlatan. “Enjoy the satellite data while you can.” He started to back toward the door. “You aren’t going home anyway.”

  Alex and the team crept out, as Zlatan and his men turned back to the glowing asteroid fragment. Alex paused to watch them for a moment; the frightening thing was Zlatan had said the weird blob had sung to him.

  Now Alex could hear it too.

  CHAPTER 30

  USSTRATCOM Biological Research Facility

  “Proceed,” Jack Hammerson said, not able to take his eyes off the thing on the stainless-steel table.

  Doctor Phillip Hertzog nodded from within his sealed suit, and stared back down at the grotesque cadaver.

  “Amazing,” he said softly, moving up to the head. Using two fingers, he pointed to the forehead. “You see these?” He indicated some darkening discs around the two standard eyes.

  “I do,” Jack Hammerson said, moving a little closer, and rolling slick shoulders. He hated wearing the high-grade biological suits, as even with their own air-con units, they were as uncomfortable as hell.

  “I think they’re the beginning of additional ocular organs.”

  “Extra eyes?” Hammerson remained impassive.

  “Oh yes.” Hertzog looked up. “The ultimate predatory advantage. Multiple eyes exist in a few other deadly hunters as well – the spider has eight, of course. But also, the praying mantis has five eyes – two large compound ones and three smaller ones in the center of its head.”

  Hammerson just nodded, and Hertzog turned back to the corpse, picked up a probe and prized open the lips. “No human teeth remaining.” He pushed down, causing the jaw to distend like a gaping fish. On either side of the mouth, there looked to be odd growths. “And these look like the beginning of maxillipeds – usually only see these on crabs or insects.” He whistled. “Amazing.”

  “I already got that. What else?” Hammerson said abruptly.

  “The change is as fascinating as it is significant. And all undertaken in a matter of hours – this is bio-alteration on an unimaginable scale.” He looked up. “The only thing that makes these sorts of gross physiological changes is radiation, and that usually takes a generation. Or …” He bobbed his head from side to side.

  “Or?” Hammerson tilted his chin.

  “Evolution,” Hertzog said.

  “Yeah, and even I know that takes longer, and is usually forced by changing environmental or competitive conditions,” Hammerson responded.

  “Very good, that’s right, Colonel; it can take many generations. Whatever these poor souls were exposed to was some sort of highly advanced and accelerated mutagen.” He grinned. “And after all, isn’t that what evolution is? A mutation that benefits a species? And all selected by Mother Nature herself.”

  Hertzog blinked to clear some perspiration from his eyes, and Hammerson could see an already glistening brow behind his visor. “Okay, I’m going in.”

  Hammerson craned forward, watching closely.

  Hertzog’s hand and scalpel hovered over the creature’s chest for a moment. The flesh was all lumped and contoured more like that of a reptile, but with clear plating, and at the joints the segments had started to separate ­– more indicative of an arthropod.

  “Uh …” his hand wavered indecisively. “Okay.” He pressed down on the flesh.

  Hammerson saw the man’s finger on the blade bend as he applied pressure, but the flesh wouldn’t cut. He pressed down harder.

  Plink.

  The slim blade broke at the center. “Oh my god, these things are tough sonsofbitches,” Hertzog said.

  “Tell me about it,” Hammerson said. “Most took half a dozen rounds before they even began to slow down.”

  Hertzog looked down at the multiple bullet wounds. “So I see.” He then leaned toward a small silver table containing his instruments and grabbed at the bone saw. He clipped on another full-face splatter-mask and flipped it down.

  “Well, we’ll see what we see then.” He started the small spinning disc, and brought it down on the mottled flesh.

  The leathery hide separated, and then came the deeper grind of steel on bone. Hammerson took a few steps back and folded his arms. It took Hertzog ten minutes to create the Y-shape incision of a standard autopsy, whe
n it should have taken him two.

  When he was finally done, he used a chest separator to prize apart the massively thick rib cage. Then Hertzog stared down into the cavity, his brow furrowed.

  “What the hell have we got here?” He started to delve into the open chest, and Hammerson came closer.

  “Oh god.” Hertzog clicked his tongue. “No wonder they were tough to take down. Even if you could penetrate the ribs, you’d have to stop two hearts.” He moved some organs aside.

  “So …” Hertzog cleared his throat. “We have two functioning, oversized hearts with connected pulmonary trunks. No discernible liver or spleen, and the lungs …” He edged some viscera aside. “… look atrophied and now resemble something more akin to a tracheal breathing apparatus.” Hertzog looked across at Hammerson. “I think this thing was on its way to being able to absorb oxygen through the pores in its skin.”

  Jack Hammerson remained impassive and the doctor continued.

  “Massive monogastric digestive system typical of an alpha carnivore.” He grimaced behind his visor as he cut into the gut. “Jesus Christ.” He used to pair of long-nosed forceps to hold up a partially digested human hand. “Its last meal.”

  He set it aside and continued. “The bladder and bowel have merged, creating a single waste elimination system like that of a reptile or insect.”

  Hammerson watched, trance-like, as the autopsy progressed to the brain, and then the musculature and skeletal system. When Hertzog stepped back from the flayed carcass, he looked exhausted, and a little green.

  “I know this was once a man, but that seems incredible now. Looking at it, if I didn’t know what I now know, I would say it was more alien than human.” He pointed to a gray blob in a dish. “Even the brain has reduced in size and is more an elongated mass along the spinal cord. This thing might work on a hive mind type basis.”

  “Like bees or ants?” Hammerson asked.

  “Yeah, most likely.” Hertzog picked at the long gray organ.

  Hammerson’s eyes narrowed. “So who or what controls the hive?”