Blurred Vision: Seven billion voices about to be silenced

by Chris Botragyi

He awoke to the familiar sounds of animalistic howls, his return to consciousness welcomed by the vile smell of death. His blurred eyes slowly travelled the large “zoo”. He flinched at the intense pain caused by the hefty weight that was his right hand. With his left, he clawed at the grease and grime as he tried to shift his bare body into an upright position. His sweat-ravaged forehead hurt badly from the brightness of the hexagonal room; the black spots in his vision caused him to shake his head, enhancing the excruciating pain. Digging his heels into the oily floor, he managed to place his back against cool steel. He was back in the cage.

  He looked left at the cage next to his – Davidé was gone. He writhed painfully until he was on his knees, scanning the room through the bars as he tried to gain some insight into what was happening, and why. His eyes searched every inch as far as they could go, but the visibility still wasn’t good as the red mist surrounded the area.

  The pain didn’t decrease. This was coupled with tremendous hunger. With all this happening he realised that he hadn’t drunk, or eaten anything since his arrival. Somehow though, he desperately needed to empty his bowels. Despite everything that he had seen, and what he was going through, he felt embarrassed about having to defecate so openly.

  Primal urge took place of pride as he crawled to the back of the cage. He held his shaking right hand tight to his chest, and straightened his upper body. Remaining on his knees, he parted his legs slightly. He emptied his bowels, moaning in discomfort at the effort. The foreign insects immediately began to investigate as the watery contents congealed on the dirty surface.

  With half closed eyes he looked around sheepishly, before placing his left hand under his shrivelled penis. He proceeded to urinate into and over the palm, spilling it as he tried to steady his arm. Quickly, he raised his grubby hand to his dry mouth and began slurping at the warm, dark orange urine. He started gagging violently at the disgusting taste, but he knew that he needed it. The urine that he managed to keep down eased his sore throat until he gagged again. His left hand fell to the floor; the drips entwined with his fingers. He closed his tired eyes and dropped his head in shame; even now, he tried to maintain some dignity. Those who watched probably did not know what he was doing, or even care. Deep down though, he understood that this little embarrassment might prolong his life longer.

  He stared at the inch-long bugs as they gathered around the faeces, amused by their long legs struggling to negotiate the congealing, sticky pool. Something flashed which caught his eye. He moved slowly on his hand and knees towards the puddle of defecation, wincing with each movement. He studied the contents closely, then dipped his left thumb and index finger awkwardly into the muck. He delicately pulled out a small hard object. He spat onto his thumb, and rubbed the flat quarter-inch metallic square between his fingers. He spat a second time before finally wiping his hand against his icy left thigh. He raised the object to his eyeline, staring intensely as he tried to work out what it was. A tiny yellow light pulsed from the maze of minuscule, vine-like circuitry that branched out over the object.

  ‘What the fuck?’ He rotated the metal between his fingers, letting out a sigh. He knew what it was. He opened his mouth – splitting his dry lips in the process – and placed the gadget between his uneven teeth, biting hard. A bitter taste forced him to spit out the bent, damaged square. The light was dead, the circuitry mangled. A curl-lipped scowl dominated his dirty features. ‘Fucking tracking devices.’

  A fever was beginning to take hold. In the cold atmosphere, the sweat poured from his head. Screams continued to puncture his senses as his head and hand burned heavily. He tried to raise his right hand, but the effort was too much. The sound of footsteps on the grating soon forced him to hunch back in the weak light. He began to shake as the three aliens returned. Their thin bodies cast long shadows as they passed by his cage. He let out a relieved breath, pursing his lips as he balanced his fragility out evenly with the little sanity that remained.

  The creatures were dragging another bloodied body, except this one had no head. An arm fell from the corpse, swaying hypnotically from side to side like a gruesome pendulum. Filth and germs congregated under broken nails in small clumps as the fingers scraped the bacteria-infested flooring.

  Daniel groaned gently to himself as he recognised that the arm was human. His tear-glazed eyes followed the body, watching as it was dumped ruthlessly into the corner amongst the otherworldly corpses. It was like a universal mass morgue as the bodies began to pile up. One of the Greys held the human head by its tangled web of dark hair. The alien’s eyes – black, emotionless – exuded nothing as the head was thrown onto the death pile. Daniel inhaled as his heart skipped a beat. The head landed with a sickening thud. Blue eyes stared back at him in frozen terror – it was Davidé.

  Daniel opened his eyes abruptly, blinking repetitively as he tried to focus. He lay half upright in the dirt. I must have passed out again he thought as the screams burrowed once again into his shattered brain. The smell snaked up his nose, causing him to clench his eyes shut for a few seconds. He jumped, feeling the insects crawling over his naked body; their harsh legs scratched irritatingly at his flesh. He attempted to bat them off as he hoisted himself up fully. Sighing nervously, he stared at the floor; he couldn’t tell if it was steel or not as there was so much muck covering it.

  The cage shuddered again as it slowly rose, culminating in a strong jolt. The murky shadows forced his stare from the floor. Dazed, he looked up at the three figures squatting at the front bars of the cage. Their forms blurred back and forth as he struggled to maintain focus. He felt an acidic burn as bile entered his throat. The alien waved its hand through the air and the steel door flew open. Again, the creature stood back as the other two entered the cage, grabbing at him. He tried to fight their advances, but was too weak; it was useless – they overpowered him effortlessly.

  He gazed at the wavering, fading orange light as he was pulled roughly down the corridor. This time he was taken a different way, as his body shifted around several corners and along as many corridors. Apart from the light, all he could see was the back of the aliens’ long necks. He stared uneasily at the small rolls of rumpled skin that stretched out with each giant step. His ears pricked as he heard violent growls mixed with shrieking cries. They stopped at another door. He leant his delirious head back as the Grey moved its hand across the sensor. The large door opened slowly; it didn’t seem as efficient as the others, somewhat at a technical disadvantage. More low level light greeted him as they entered the large circular room. Another corpse, this time brown and hairy, passed by him. There was no mist as he strained his neck sideways, watching as the leathery hands dragged the thing out of the door.

  They all stopped. The aliens pulled Daniel to his feet with force. A fiery pain made him nauseous as his head hung to one side, his body semi-conscious and shivering. The leader of the three Greys descended before him. Time to die! He could feel its deep eyes burn his soul as his brain absorbed its grim words.

  He looked around the room, unsure of where he was. A 40-foot dull grey metal pit swallowed them all up. Several feet in front of him was a bright blue electrical forcefield. He had no idea what it was for, and tried to gape through its sparse transparency.

  Many Greys, hundreds, gathered on the upper steps of the steel coliseum. They looked on as the bandages were ripped from Daniel’s right hand. It was like a cattle market as the Greys all looked to one another, pointing in communication to where he stood. He flinched as the last portion of bandage was brutally torn away, causing him to collapse. The aliens lifted him back to his feet, but the sight of his hand almost made him pass out again. There, mechanically and surgically fused to his right hand, was a rusted four-pronged fork-like weapon. He stared in a dream-like state at the horrific appendage that was once his healthy human hand. He felt dizzy, unsteady on his feet as he rotated his wrist; blood swam with the rust, and ever increasing infection.

  The Greys surrounding him removed themselves from th
e 12-foot deep pit and joined their fellow species in the stands. Daniel raised his flittering eyes to the shadowy forms that stood the other side of the strange forcefield. Narrowing his eyes, he could vaguely make out another three stick thin figures.

  A loud buzzer sounded, startling him. The blue forcefield wall disappeared with a static crackle. He watched as the aliens in front of his eyeline parted, and proceeded to climb out of the pit. The thing that looked back at him scared him to the brink of vomiting.

  He looked around the eerily quiet room. His eyes trawled the crowd’s faces, empty, still. The buzzer sounded again, making him jump once more. He turned his slow attention back to the pit which made him smile insanely. It reminded him of an empty swimming pool, though why he found this amusing he didn’t know.

  The tall green creature sprinted forwards athletically on its two kangaroo-like legs. Its jagged distorted figure danced in spasms as it headed towards him. As it approached, Daniel could see that it also had a similar type of weapon fused to its muscular right arm.

  The strange monster swung its blades as it attempted to kill him. His maniacal face – swamped in terror – watched as the creature’s moist skin sparkled in the glow. He panicked, instinctively ducking and diving as the foggy onslaught continued. Two small red eyes glowed as they hunted their prey; rows of sharp teeth dripped thick saliva as they craved his flesh, his death.

  He staggered around the pit in an adrenaline-induced motion – there was nowhere to hide. The faces blended into a grey swirl within the crowd as he sought safety. He looked for a way out, at the singular steps that jutted out from the side of the pit. But it was no good, he was too weak to haul himself out anyway.

  The creature blocked his every move, cutting him off in all directions. He swung blindly at it, desperate to escape. He threw his weak arm out in a pushing, prodding motion. It roared as he caught it in the midriff with his weaponised hand; chunks of green wrinkled flesh dangled from the dirty blades. It took a big step backwards, stunned at the sight of the four deep slash wounds that lined its thick flesh. The scowl deepened as it composed itself, grinding its teeth angrily before leaping forwards.

  Instinct took hold as Daniel’s cloudy vision cleared slightly, making him more aware. Sadly this was not to last. In one swift movement, four long claws gripped his wiry right arm. The creature raised its steel pincer towards the human’s struggling wrist. With a scissor snip, it cut. Clang! The sound reverberated around the arena as the weapon – and what was left of Daniel’s hand – fell to the floor. He let out a blood-curdling scream that became an assault on the alien crowd’s senses. The burning sensation climbed his arm, shredding his nerve endings in searing, blistering agony.

  The extraterrestrial watchers seemed agitated. Whether this was their way of showing excitement or not, Daniel didn’t know, nor care. The creature moved its clawed hand from his arm, creeping it up to his neck. He was trapped like a fly in a spider’s web. He threw his left arm wildly in a desperate arc as the creature’s claws entered his soft pale flesh. A large, horned face thrust itself into his eyeline. He could feel its hot vulgar breath as it blasted his worn, sweat-laden skin. He began to cry as his sanity finally cracked. The monster seemed taken aback at the human’s streaking tears; it seemed as though it had never encountered such behaviour until now. Daniel raised his left arm as he tried to fight off the choking hold from his withering neck. The attempts were always futile, he knew this, he just didn’t have the energy – or the will – to survive anymore.

  The creature’s face was covered in tiny, pointed lumps. These seemed to diminish, soften, as it began sniffing curiously at the bloodied stump that was once Daniel’s right hand. It raised its weapon and began jabbing at the fragile body in front of it. Daniel wailed at each vicious prod as lumps of flesh were torn from his weak torso. Stinging torment arrived on the deep wounds that were dotted randomly over his skin. Flashes of rib bones glistened with blood in the light. The creature snorted as it seemed to momentarily study his human anatomy, picking at the holes as it peered into the wounds.

  ‘Please… please… let me go,’ whispered Daniel as his tear-stained red eyes roamed the arena. He let out a high pitched whine which stunned the creature back into its fighting posture. It tightened its hold around his neck. Its eyes came alive, glowing as the aggression spread over its grotesque face. Daniel heard, and felt, a swift cracking sound. He was finding it hard to breathe as he began to waver. His eyes blurred once more as they lost focus. The crowd seemed to sway hypnotically, side to side as they took on a slow, bendy appearance. He could hear his heartbeat pulsing in his head, petering by the second. The darkness quickly followed…

  The flaccid body hung heavily as it was dragged through to the freezing cargo hold. A never-ending chorus of cries and wails dominated the oppressive air.

  ‘Help me! Help!’ begged a human female voice that quickly faded from within reach of passing alien ears.

  The Grey that followed banged on another cage. This silenced the growling coming from behind the bars. The three humanoids stopped in their smooth tracks and lifted the body up. In one effort it landed on the death pile with a wet, heavy slap. It was followed by bunched up metres of slimy, unravelled intestines – and Daniel’s badly severed head. His dark eyes, dead… nothing.

  Chapter 3: Unrest

  ‘MONSTERS, they’re all fucking monsters!’ said Mark, his usually calm demeanour rattled as he made frantic hand gestures.

  ‘What the hell had they done to him?’ asked James, as he sat with his head between his knees. ‘W-w-why was he in pieces?’

  Hargreaves puffed out his red cheeks. ‘Must have been some form of experimentation,’ he said, trying to remain composed, ‘either that or torture, take your pick.’

  ‘But what sort of torturer does that to a person?’ James said, raising his head to look at them. ‘Are we next, do you think?’

  Tom had begun to squirm in the grease on the floor; he was at breaking point. The others all just stared at him; they had given up, there was no calming him anymore.

  ‘Well, we know that we can’t get off this ship now, especially after what I’ve just witnessed,’ said Mark with a nervous sigh as the full realisation sunk deep. ‘We aren’t going anywhere.’

  John had also started to become agitated as he raised his voice to speak over Tom’s incessant noise. ‘What do we do, wait for them to come in and take us one by one?’

  Mark began to pace the perimeter of the wall. ‘We don’t know what’s going to happen.’

  ‘Come on, Mark, don’t bullshit around,’ said John, ‘we’re all dead, aren’t we?’ The writhing and wailing within the room had reached an intolerable level. The noise burrowed through John’s skull, driving like a corkscrew through his brain. He placed his hands over his ears. ‘Will you stop fucking shouting, I can’t think straight!’

  ‘Calm down, all of you,’ reasoned Mark as he moved towards John. He raised his hands chest high so his motions could be seen through the mist.

  John clenched his fists. ‘I’ll calm down when he shuts up!’

  Tom lay on the floor with a crazed look upon his face. He pointed a dirty finger at John. ‘Dead, dead, dead!’

  ‘No, don’t do it.’ Mark could see what was coming. He tried to hold onto John’s left arm, but his feet began slipping from underneath him. ‘General, some help please.’

  John ran over to Tom and began kicking him while he spun on the grating, laughing and crying simultaneously.

  ‘Stop it!’ screamed James as he fell on top of Tom to protect him. ‘He doesn’t know what he’s saying.’

  Tom clung to James’ slender frame like a frightened child as Hargreaves approached John from behind. He hooked his arms underneath the attacker’s medium build as he tried in vain to apply a full nelson hold. He struggled to get the right grip through the thick material of his military blazer, though the younger man’s strength didn’t help matters. Finally, Hargreaves managed to interlock his fingers at
the back of John’s fleshy neck. They both slid backwards into the wall as John swung his body in a circle, kicking out as he attempted to break the hold. His power eventually gave in as he tired out. The General may have been double in John’s age, but he was equal in strength when it came down to it.

  ‘Fucking let me go,’ panted John as his arms went loose by his shoulders. ‘I’m done, alright.’

  Hargreaves’ large barrel-shaped chest rose and fell rhythmically as he regained his breath. ‘Are you sure?’ he said firmly.

  John patted the General’s forearms. ‘Yeah, I’m done.’

  Hargreaves cautiously released his grip and pushed the man forwards, away from him. John staggered off, rubbing the back of his neck.

  ‘Right, General, what would the military do in a situation such as this?’ asked Mark now that the conflict had settled.

  ‘First things first: remain calm and survey your surroundings. Once the option of any escape routes has been removed, then prepare for interrogation – and possible torture.’

  The General’s words stung their ears.

  ‘But why would they interrogate us, and for what purpose?’ James said as he held Tom to keep him warm. ‘Surely they know everything anyway, don’t they?’

  ‘No,’ said Hargreaves in a deep tone as he walked towards the others. ‘They never know everything.’

  John was now calm, though the back of his neck still felt sore as he crouched down against the wall. ‘Help us out here, General… What’s the military up to?’

  ‘Forget all of your questions, the General can’t tell you,’ whispered Mark. ‘This might be the whole point of us being here, do you understand?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Look, this could all be an alien exercise in an attempt to gain military knowledge. For all we know we could have been handpicked specifically, in terms of our personalities.’

  James looked up at the Professor. ‘I don’t follow,’ he said with a frown, ‘what have our personalities got to do with anything?’