by Oliver Tuson
Into the Unknown
17:05, 15th August 2003
Power Room Tunnel, Hades Facility, Northern Iraq
Clarke didn’t know it, but the creature throwing its head back had saved his life. The grenade exploded. The beast’s tough scaly lower jaw and head absorbed most of the blast. Its tough exterior contained the explosion within. With nowhere to escape from, the shrapnel and blast tore through the inside of the monster’s body. The bulk smashing up into its brain, whilst the rest went deep down its throat and into its vital organs.
It dropped Clarke instantly, who hit the ground momentarily before falling into the abyss of the tunnel. Above him it went dark as the creature collapsed over the entrance, eclipsing the light above. Its blood and brain fluids rained down on Clarke as he tumbled down the steep rock face. He felt the surface cutting and smashing against him. He tried unsuccessfully to take a grip on the rocks. Each time gravity tearing him away, cutting his palms as he fell. His head met a rock, his helmet taking the brunt and cracking, but still sending him into unconsciousness.
Suddenly, the tunnel became less steep and the rocks hit his limp body more frequently as gravity pushed him down. He rolled violently along the final part of the tunnel and tumbled out, landing with a wet squelch and tumbling down a pile of bloody meat that softened the impact before he rolled onto the floor where he lay unconscious.
A few moments later his senses started to come back. The world slowly returning, along with a world of pain. He groaned as he rolled on to his back and blinked his eyes open. His head was pounding and his body was aching all over. He tried sitting up but his body wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he rolled back onto his front and slowly brought his legs into his chest then sat up on his knees. He let out a gasp of pain as he took a deep breath. His helmet was smashed and dangled in two halves around his neck. The straps keeping it together. He unbuckled the chin strap and the two halves fell to the floor with a thud as he checked over his body for any broken bones. Amazingly none, he thought with a faint smile. Just a whole lot of cuts and bruises that stung his skin.
Then he remembered. The final sight of Sanchez and Hawkins being overrun by those creatures. He dropped his head down in defeat. The pain that his battered body felt was nothing compared to the pain of that image. The pain of his failures. He knelt there for a few moments. His mind whirling at the recent events. Am I cursed? Everything I touch turns to blood and death. His mind was spinning. His thoughts imagining the horrific death of Sanchez and Hawkins as those monsters sliced them to shreds and feasted on their bodies.
All that's left is Jasper. I’ve got to get to him. I’ve got to save him at least. He staggered up to his feet, his body screaming in pain as he took in the sight around him. He was in some sort of giant cell. Large metal bars ran the length of one side. Separating it from another area. A huge pile of bloody meat lay on the floor that he had slid down. The blood of the meat was sticking to his clothing still. He couldn’t tell what meat it was. Its strange texture and shape nothing he had seen before. Then there was the near vertical tunnel heading up to the power room above the fleshy pile.
This is where that thing was being kept. And fed. Until it decided it didn’t like being a pet anymore, he thought with a faint smile. He looked around for his rifle but couldn’t see it. Must have been torn off in the fight or the fall down the tunnel. He felt naked without it. A rifleman without a rifle. Or a radio. Which was smashed and in pieces on the floor next to him.
He pulled out his pistol and made it ready. Sliding the bolt back with satisfaction. Unconsciously he felt his grenade pouch. One left. Not a great set up he thought to himself with a sigh.
He moved towards the bars. They were wide and designed to keep that monstrosity in, not a man, and Clarke slipped through it with ease. Into a large area that was set up for the creature’s care. Large empty cages and boxes were clustered together. Whatever it ate. Whatever the pile of half eaten flesh was, it must of been delivered here in those. He looked back at the cell. Imagining scientists and researchers watching it and taking notes. Jesus, what is this place?
He moved through the area towards a large door set into the far wall, but stopped at the door. The sudden weight of the deaths of all his men bearing down. The fatigue of the day crashing down on him like an avalanche. The constant stress of battles and fear of death at the hands of these creatures shattering at his nerves. His broken, battered body and mind, for one moment, gave in and he felt a huge overwhelming urge to give up. He collapsed to his knees. Fighting back the tears of all his emotions. He allowed himself a few seconds. A few seconds to wallow in the emotions flooding him. A few seconds to allow his body and mind to vent.
Then he slowly stood up. Dragging himself to his feet once more. Wanting revenge. Revenge for all his men. For all of the task force’s soldiers slain by the death in this place. He knew the facility was crawling with monsters. Death lurking around every corner. And he knew someone had planned it. Created it. Bred it. And he wanted them to pay. To get revenge. Or he would die trying. With his limited kit he would take as many of them to the afterlife with him as he could.
With a final deep breath to help push his emotions back down, he opened the door and stepped through. Pistol raised and ready. He emerged into a large laboratory. Rows of work benches run around the outside. Computers and monitors littered around. Large fridges, freezers and electric cabinets and all manner of strange kit that Clarke didn't recognise. He felt he had walked into the future. And it didn’t feel natural.
In the middle was a group of large glass tanks filled with a strange brown fluid. Something was floating in the centre. He crept towards them, listening to the sound of anything waiting to tear him to shreds. He got close enough to look into the tank. Only his focus hit his reflection on the glass first.
He didn’t recognise the image at first. The face was covered in blood. Not all his. And dust. Thick dust clung to him from his fall down the tunnel. He was a mess. And his eyes didn’t look like his anymore. In their reflection he saw nothing but rage and a lust for revenge beaming out.
His focus slowly shifted to the centre of the tank. There, floating in the middle, was a much smaller version of the creature he had fought up in the power room. Only the size of a large dog. He looked closer at it. Taking in the detail of it. Its scales. Scorpion like tail. Its broad spiked legs. Small head and arms with pincers.
It suddenly leapt at Clarke making him jump back. Its spikes trying to smash the thick reinforced glass. The dinging of its spikes hitting the surface. Clarke raised his pistol and thought of shooting out the glass, then sending the creature to its death. But he stopped himself. With no one left to care for it, it would die soon enough. And he needed the bullets to take more of these demons back to hell.
He let out a sigh as he lowered his weapon. They were growing these? Creating these? He thought back to the diary he read up in the office as he moved off towards a door on the side and stepped through into a neat office. Everything was logically filed away on shelves. The whole room was a bit too neat, and too plain. As if someone cared more about its appearance than the practicality as a place of work. Then Clarke’s anger started to rise as he saw a picture of a man he recognised, stood alongside a woman he assumed was his wife. Behind them, Rome’s Coliseum towered, the two tourists looking at each other lovingly in their eyes.
Clarke picked up the picture frame and looked hard into the image of Doctor Ahmed on his romantic trip to Italy. Enjoying the money, he earned creating the death that killed his men. With the picture still in his hand he looked up to the wall behind the desk where another larger picture hung.
There, in the middle of a group of scientists in white lab coats was Ahmed. All posing for the camera. Smiles and grins for the team picture. Behind them was the caged area Clarke had landed in after his fall down the tunnel. And in the cage was the huge beast he had killed. Only it was alive and dominating the back ground. Its scaly black body in deathly contrast to Ahmed�
�s team of scientists in white coats.
With a fit of rage Clarke threw the Italian picture in his hand at the scientists, the glass smashing and shattering down over the neat floor. His anger kept rising at the sight of the smug scientists still staring at him, smiling at him. Those scientists that created the nightmare his men were dying in. He walked up to the hanging picture and tore it from the wall. Using all his strength he smashed the picture against the desk over and over, until the wooden frame splintered and snapped into many pieces where they fell to the floor. With a final burst of rage, he kicked the remains to the side of the office.
His anger boiling, he put his hands on the desk to steady himself as he took a few deep breaths to try and calm down. As he did, he stared down to the desk where a single file was sat.
Its front cover was printed with the words ‘Project Scorpios: Facility Neutraliser & Antimilitary Weapon’. His interest ignited, he flicked through the file. Various life cycle stages of the creature he had fought in the power room were documented. From a tiny embryo to the full-sized monstrosity it would eventually grow into. Bigger than the one he had fought and nearly died at the hands of in the level above. The one from the power room must have only been an adolescent in comparison to the pictures of the adult breed in the file.
He turned a few more pages. Still pictures taken from a video were stapled in. Pictures of the fully-grown creature smashing through a military tank. Its huge mass towering above it. Its spikes skewing through its metal with ease. He turned the page. Another series of images of the creature digging through a bunker and group of trenches. Grabbing and killing all its inhabitants. Its spikes tearing away earth and walls to get to its prey within. Moving through the ground with as much ease as a shark through water. Only this thing was far more lethal than the oceans ultimate killing machine. He flicked through the rest. More images of soldiers trying to fight it. And dying. A picture of three soldiers skewed by its tail spike as it worked through a trench system.
Then a final picture. Three tanks surrounded by a group of soldiers and had fought and finally killed it out in the open desert. No doubt the open space being the creature's downfall. Allowing the tanks and soldiers armed with portable rocket launchers to flank around it and kill it. Its body now a bloody mess on the sand.
Clarkes stomach turned as he recognised the bloody texture of the insides of the huge creature. The same he had landed on in the tunnel. He shook his head in disgust. They fed the corpse of that huge monstrosity to the new creature that they bred to take its place.
Having read enough of the file he closed it and pushed it across the desk. As if it being further from him would somehow help. With a final look at the doctor's office he headed back out. Clarke glanced at the young creature in the tank, imagining Ahmed staring into the same tanks, monitoring his creations and taking notes of how to progress them. To make them more deadly. More beneficial to the military. But who’s military? He thought to himself, already fairly sure of the answer. He tore his gaze off the tanks and headed through another door at the back of the lab.
He emerged into a long corridor with various offices and conference rooms splintering off. He made his way down, heading towards an elevator door at the end. Glancing in the offices as he went. He could imagine the various researchers and scientists going about their tasks. Creating a weapon that could decimate modern military establishments, vehicles and personnel with ease. Reporting their progress to Doctor Ahmed who must have run this lab.
He reached the elevator and pressed the call button. Hoping it would work. ‘Ding’. The doors opened to his relief and he stepped in leaving behind the horrors of the lab.
The elevator travelled up for a good minute. Clarke wondered just how far deep in the mountain he must have been. His thoughts ceased as the doors slid open and Clarke stepped out on to another centre identical to the others. However, on this level, six elevator doors were marked ‘Research and Development Areas’. All no doubt leading down to the depths of the mountain. Another elevator was simply marked ‘Upper Levels’.
He moved to the upper level's door, hoping to get back to Jasper and Millerchip far above him and pressed the button. Nothing. The lift must have been operated from the control room as Jasper had said earlier. He looked about for any way of contacting his friend in the control room. He saw a camera fixed into the wall and with a faint seed of hope, begun waving at it, hoping Jasper or Millerchip were watching that feed and would activate the lift. Nothing. He stopped. “Why would they be looking? I died back there…” He said softly to himself as he looked back to the lab he had just came from. ‘Research and Development Area Number Four’.
Clarke looked back at the camera wondering if Jasper was there, or if the camera wasn’t working, or if the power hadn’t reset all the systems or worse… if Jasper was no longer there. Victim to the monsters that killed Hawkins and Sanchez. He shook the thoughts from his mind as he looked about.
Can’t go up… I might as well go down and investigate the rest. He glanced about. Five labs left. Might as well start at number one, he thought using what simple logic he had left in this hellish nightmare.
He pressed the elevator call button for lab one and a few moments later the doors slid open. With his pistol raised he stepped in and pressed the button and was soon descending down into the unknown. The doors opened a few minutes later and the bravo leader stepped out into another long corridor. He made his way along it and emerged into another research area. This one however was empty. As if whatever they had been working on had either failed, or been successful. Either way the project was finished or abandoned.
He looked about at the empty tanks and cages that littered the room. Workstations just collecting dust. Empty spaces were science machinery of some sort had been, no doubt moved to assist other research areas. Clarke walked about trying to find any clues as to the labs original purpose, but found nothing. Just an empty lab.
He looked across the room to an office at the back and moved towards it hoping to find some clue to the labs purpose. Clarke entered it weapon raised. Alert to any sudden attacks. He was growing used to death lurking around each corner now. Somehow, the death of his friends took a weight off his shoulders. Removing responsibility. Allowing him to almost accept a death now. A death that was no doubt somewhere down here, in this hell, lurking in the vents and around corners.
The office was however, still in use, unlike the lab. The desk still covered in papers and various files. A coffee cup sat on the desk by a computer terminal that was still active. Its screen glowing bright. He approached the desk and looked at the leather chair. The comforting sight overwhelming Clarke’s battered body and mind for a second as he sat back into it placing his weapon on the desk. He leant back in the chair as he took a deep breath. Relaxing for a moment. He hadn’t sat in a chair like this since his talk with Major Redwood. A conversation that seemed like a lifetime ago.
He felt all the pain in his body. As if it had been hidden until this point. His brain masking it until he could rest. Trying to keep him as alert as possible. He felt his eyes close for a split second as his tired mind tried to pull him towards sleep. He dismissed the thought and leaned forward to the computer. The screen was open on an email account. Accessing the mail, Clarke scanned for anything of relevance. Which he found quickly.
To: All Lab One Staff
Subject: CERBERUS GUARDIAN SYSTEM NOW OPERATIONAL
Congratulations! At last, we have a fully operational and successful weapon. Project Cerberus has been a great success and is now operationally deployed to protect and secure our facility’s perimeter. You should all be very proud of the work and results you have achieved.
The DNA binding from the three animals, combined with our base mutation and growth hormone viruses has created a perfect line of defence against anyone attempting to either enter the facility, or any fool who stumbles across it by mistake. Either way, we are secure and hidden due to our creation and because of the great work of Lab
One.
I will be formally recommending the use of the Cerberus System to be trialed at military bases in various theatres of war around the globe. The number of military personnel that this could potentially save will be the proof we need to sway the government for further funding and support to carry on our unique scientific work. With extra funding, think of what more we could achieve? Also, those personnel can bolster other areas of the armed forces to progress with our military might. All of which will further add to the cause we seek.
A formal report will be sent soon with all the official figures. In the meantime, we shall close this project and continue with the other ongoing research areas. You will all be reallocated positions amongst the other projects. Once again, congratulations and thank you for your hard work and dedication to the company.
Regards
Doctor Ahmed.
Head of Genetics and Project Implementation
Clarke leant back in the chair as he pondered the meaning of it all. So, Ahmed wasn’t a nuke expert. Instead a geneticist, and he had a success. And that success had decimated his men in the village. He remembered Sanchez saying something about Cerberus before.
When they were sharing a beer on the rooftops in the early weeks, the scotsman told of an old dog he had. A vicious thing that tried to bite him at every opportunity. But the hound was great with the kids and protecting the house. The children would play with it for hours. Chasing it and throwing toys for it as it eagerly repaid the affection with licks and love towards them. Then at night, the dog would lay at the end of the children’s beds, guarding them whilst they slept. If anyone approached the house it would bark and howl in warning, waking the household and neighbours up. For those reasons he never got rid of it. Instead, ended up with various bite marks for years.
To the scotsman delight, it eventually ran off and he never saw it again. But Sanchez described it as being Cerberus. Sanchez had answered Clarke’s puzzled look with a grin. “You know, the three headed demon dog that guarded the gates of the hell? Of hades? Greek mythology? Boss you need to read up on your history!”