The mouth closed, and the eyes, those terrible, nightmare yellow eyes, slid through the mass of whatever made up its body, slid down through its form until they hovered right over Martin’s outstretched foot.
They locked on Martin’s eyes just as its yawning mouth closed.
The pain was immediate, intense, and yet somehow removed. It felt electrical in nature, like touching an exposed nerve or cracking your funny bone, and it caused Martin’s entire leg to twitch uncontrollably.
He felt no teeth within that mouth, but something did exert pressure on his skin. There was heat, deep and intense, and it seemed to find his bones, concentrated there until his foot felt as if it were on fire, melting.
“Shit!” Martin shouted to the dark thing, then propped his other foot against the bedrail, propelling himself across the slick, wooden floor into the hallway.
He climbed to his feet, but his left foot, the one that had been in the thing’s mouth, was limp, without feeling. Martin had a quick mental image of a stump, cauterized like charcoal yet still oozing blood. But he pushed it away quickly, slammed the bedroom door.
The thing, now that it had a taste of him, roared in anger, and that roar shook the house, made Martin’s heart tremble in his chest.
Breathing hard, he looked up and down the hall.
The bedroom door would not hold it.
For a moment, he wondered about Philip Dorset, professor of theoretical physics.
He wondered what the good professor had been up to in this house… what windows he’d opened onto what other worlds, other dimensions.
Windows that, once opened, he had been unable to fully shut.
This wasn’t the first time that something had come through the window that Professor Dorset had opened. Martin knew that with certainty.
So what had he done before?
The room! The small antechamber behind the iron door!
The thing behind the bedroom door stirred. Martin could hear it within the room, moving, tossing his bed aside, pressing itself against the other side of the door.
Martin turned down the hall, raced toward the strange iron door, dragging his dead foot just as the cloud creature let loose another tremendous, agonizing roar of frustration.
He slid to a stop, grabbed the cold iron handle of the strange door. It opened grudgingly, screeched in its own kind of defiance. But Martin yanked at it, and as he did, his bedroom door, just down the hallway, blasted from its hinges, flew into the wall across from it, shattered.
Martin ducked into the small room, cold and smelling of rust and mildew, ducked, and turned to look back once more.
The thing oozed from the bedroom, swelled like a living cloud. It filled the narrow corridor, scraping both sides, dislodging pictures, gouging plaster as it came after him.
With a grunt of effort, Martin pulled the door shut behind him, sealed himself in the small room with a resounding, satisfying clang! There, he slumped in the darkness, his back against the cold iron of a second door, at the back of the small chamber… and listened.
* * *
It was outside the little antechamber in seconds, pounding on the door, the iron clanging like a gong. Martin could not see the door in the pitch black, but it surely couldn’t weather that kind of punishment indefinitely.
But it wasn’t the door he was immediately concerned with. He could feel the frame itself lurching, buckling under the blows. Little blurts of metallic dirt puffed into the air with each of the creature’s blows.
If the door didn’t give, surely the frame would simply collapse after a while.
Martin realized that he had to do something.
He also realized that if the professor had created this space as a kind of panic room, safe from the creature, he wouldn’t have planned it so poorly; he would have taken the doorframe into account.
The thing roared again, and it jangled in Martin’s mind… jangled something loose.
The other door… the one behind him.
What did it open onto?
Theoretically, it should open onto the side yard, but Martin knew that there was no opening there on the outside of the house.
So this door, which he had never bothered to even try to open before, must open somewhere.
Some otherwhere.
Turning in the cramped confines of the space, he felt along the cold, flat iron, found the door latch.
After who knew how many years of disuse, though, the iron latch refused to budge. Decades of moist, humid air coming off the river had finally rusted it shut.
Martin heaved against it, but the latch didn’t move, not an inch.
The other door, the door under assault from the nightmare creature, jumped and rang under its blows, almost hummed from the vibration of its howling.
It was going to give, Martin knew that, was sure of it.
Once it was down, the thing would float into the room, take Martin whole inside its great, gaping mouth and…
No! Martin screamed in his own mind. That’s not going to happen.
Back and forth he rocked the iron latch, back and forth and back and forth, and little by little, he felt the thing move, stubbornly.
Back and forth and back and forth, he rocked the iron latch, and he felt the rusted metal flake off under his hands like old skin.
Back and forth and back and forth until, suddenly, it snapped free. With shaking hands, he drew the bolt back and pulled the door open.
There was just enough space to accommodate the door swinging in without Martin having to move.
Instantly, cold air flooded the room, bitterly cold, frigid. It whipped inside, filling every corner, bringing with it a whirling, stinging dust of ice and snow.
Throwing his hand up to ward his face, Martin saw a frozen landscape, white and flat and featureless, under a dim, blue star. A few hillocks on the distant horizon were the only interruption in the absolute flatness. Anything else was either buried under the unrelenting ice or hidden in the shadows cast by the tiny blue sun.
Whatever he was going to do, he had to do it quickly, because the air of this place was sub-arctic. He would freeze to death quickly.
He knew what he was going to do; it just took him a moment to gather the shreds of his courage.
Holding the door open against the wind with his foot, he turned his body, glad that the chamber was so small, that the doors were so close together.
Taking a deep breath, he measured the pounding of the monster against the door, waited, his hand on the latch.
In a heartbeat, he threw the bolt, jerked the door open.
It was dark, and the thing was dark, too, the only illumination coming from the blue light reflected from the frozen landscape beyond.
Its momentum carried it into the room; it passed Martin so close that he felt the pressure of its form against his body, smelled the smoky, nutmeg scent of it.
But its furious momentum was too much, and it shot past Martin, through the open door.
Realizing the danger too late, it grasped at the door frame with tendrils of darkness, tried to pull itself back into the tiny room, to get at the maddening thing that had eluded it.
But the wind frayed its form, yanked it away, dissipated the thing in an instant. Within a second or two, it was smeared across the landscape, just wisps and tatters of gloom. Even its roar was lost, drowned by the greater roar of the cold, dead wind of this cold, dead world.
Martin waited for a second, only a second, then threw his weight against the open door, fought the wind until it was closed, the latch locked.
His breathing heavy, condensed in the air, he slumped against the wall, waited to see if the pounding would resume.
After a while, when it didn’t come, he went to the living room, collapsed onto the couch, and slept.
* * *
A few weeks passed, then months.
With the window boarded up again, Martin could finally relax in the house, enjoy the quiet country living for which he had bought it. As a tradeof
f for losing the bedroom window, he built a large deck on the back of the house, where he could grill his meals in the spring and summer, drink a beer, and watch the river go by.
He walked with a cane now because of his foot. But he was getting accustomed to it.
Life was good… for a while.
Until late one night in October, when the air was thin but still comfortable, and clouds moved like smoke over the face of the moon.
Until one night when he was awakened from a deep sleep by banging, loud and ringing.
Until one night when the iron door, the second one within that small, useless chamber—the chamber that had saved his life—rang with angry, insistent blows…
… from the other side.
Until one night when he remembered that a door is a kind of window, too.
SNAPBACK
From: Serent, Dr. Henry D.
Sent: Aug 14, 2027
To: Project Head [[email protected]]
Cc: RESTRICTED
Subject: EYES ONLY REPORT.
Proj. Day 254, Seq. 2, Data Stream 4-08-79XCV
Attachments: SOSQ Report 8/14/27.hexaq.doc.encrypt.key9
Protocol 7 continues with Lab 4 in continuous lockdown. Checklist follows:
Power Grid: Steady for last 187 hours following interruption almost 8 days ago. Fourth back-up generator was delivered 8/10 and brought online at 04.30 on 8/13.
Containment: Magnetic, plasma and ionic fields active, and analysis indicates all containment fields impermeable for 187 hours following power interruption. Residual chronitons detected initially have continued to decrease steadily.
Tau Field Status: The field remains steady and permeable to ingress/egress of all data and bioforms.
Grid Node Report: Stable.
Personnel Report: Two agents are involved in situations where input is necessary. Possible termination of grid access and extraction of agents may be necessary. Highlights below. Detailed report will be filed per Protocol 7 Indices.
Agent 9/56-Q-47-X-LG-24: Grid Node 9, Annum 1567+. Insertion successful. Agent biometric reports are steady and Green. Continuous data downloads have commenced and are available online, per EYES ONLY strictures. No pertinent data yet.
Agent 9/34-G-39-X-LG-12: Grid Node 17, Annum 986-. Limited local contact reported. Language dialect problems continue. Agent reports increasing difficulty in maintaining low profile. Indigenes may present a serious threat to the safety of the agents and the security of this phase of the project. The ingress of three indigenes into the tau field and the subsequent damage done in Lab 4 remains a concern. IT IS RECOMMENDED THAT THIS AGENT BE EXTRACTED AND THIS GRID/ANNUM STUDY BE TERMINATED IMMEDIATELY. Agent reports ready to return ASAP, with all wipe down protocols completed and documented. A quick decision on this grid/annum will allow us to funnel resources into a higher priority grid/annum.
Agent 9/45-J-20-X-LG-56: Grid Node 23, Annum 2457-. Day 189: Still no contact with indigenes. Project has moved into a detailed study of the environment, cataloging local flora and fauna, pollen spores, atmospheric conditions, weather, water sources, and tectonic activity. Agent reports extraction possible in 27 days.
Agent 9/12-B-98-X-LG-17: Grid Node 47, Annum 1789+. Day 487: Project continues smoothly. Total immersion in culture, with indigenes quite accepting of agent. Data and biometrics continue uninterrupted. Agent has requested a back up be inserted as soon as is practical. Back up agent will be assigned to pose as ‘spouse’ since agent’s unmarried status is becoming somewhat of a concern among the indigenes. Given the inadvisability of introducing genetic material from our annum into this grid/annum, a ‘mate’ from this era has been deemed out of the question. Agent 10-44-G-35-X-LG-55 has accelerated immersion learning and will be ready for insertion, pending directives, in 12 days.
Agent 10/78-D-64-X-LG-89: Grid Node 1, Annum 3190+. Day 10: I continue to maintain my strenuous objection to this experimental grid/annum. The tau field, elsewhere quite stable, is unstable. Agent reports are slow, and drops in the data stream continue to plague our analysis and sometimes even our comprehension of the information. Biometrics are sketchy and what we do have seems… odd. Review Day 5, 01:24:05, and Day 7, 10:45:16. See what you think. Agent reports are available online, EYES ONLY. Protocol 7 strictures in place. Input from DOD/SOSQ-89 would be helpful here with regards to the expected duration of this experiment.
From: SOSQ Project Head
Sent: Aug 14, 2027
To: Serent, Dr. Henry D. [[email protected]]
Cc: RESTRICTED
Subject: Re: EYES ONLY REPORT.
Proj. Day 254, Seq. 2, Data Stream 4-08-79XCV
Attachments: Lofeed.stuf
CONFIRMATION CODE: RW-POT-78-X/CKLK, DELTA
8/14/27 Report received and filed. All appropriate protocols in place. EYES ONLY in full effect.
Now that that’s out of the way, how the hell are ya? Sometimes hard to imagine you there, two miles below the desert. Might as well be in space with the Mars colonists. A metal tube is a metal tube, whether it’s in deep space or buried in sand. But I hope you’re holding up.
Glad the new generator came and was installed quickly. You should be happy about that, at least. Backups of backups of backups, as you always tell me. Also glad to hear the mess was contained and cleaned up from the ingress of the “indigenes”. (Love that word! That single word in your reports is worth—I’ve calculated—at least $1 million a mention from Congress!) Anyway, must have been quite a thrill to have three of King David’s soldiers crash your party. Hope there were kosher meals in the cafeteria that afternoon!
Okay, so I know you’re irritated, Hank. I can always tell when your reports revert back to bureaucratese instead of your own voice. I’ve reread your paper on the advisability of aiming Looking Glass forward rather than back. And I’ve made your views known to those above me. No clear answer yet, so you know what that means in government ops: proceed. I see and understand the variables you’re experiencing with that grid/annum, and very much appreciate the dangers you’ve noted. However, you understood the parameters of this project when you came aboard (OK… you were drafted). You knew that the backflow research was primarily a field test of the concept of the tau field, prepping the way for the eventual forward-flow studies, which, as I continue to remind you, was the keystone of getting the interest of the military… and their money.
So, continue your reports, continue your admonishments, but stay on this. It’s that vital… as you well know. Take a few days off, watch some movies. Have a weekend with that woman in IT you mentioned a few weeks back… Rachael? Renee? I can’t remember, but do something to take your mind off of being in that little metal tube buried in the desert. You need it, you’ve earned it, you deserve it. Local news feed is attached for your reading pleasure.
~Pete
P.S. BTW, this just in. Immediate retraction of agent from Grid Node 17, Annum 986- is authorized. Close it down and seal the stream.
From: Serent, Dr. Henry D.
Sent: Aug 16, 2027
To: Project Head [[email protected]]
Cc: RESTRICTED
Subject: EYES ONLY REPORT.
Proj. Day 256, Seq. 7, Data Stream 4-08-81XCV
Attachments: SOSQ Report 8/16/27.hexaq.doc.encrypt.key4
Protrocol 5 underway, as Lab 4 is now back in full-time service.
Power Grid: Steady for last 238 hours.
Containment: Magnetic, plasma and ionic fields active and steady 238 hours following power interruption. Residual chronitons, which were initially decreasing, are now increasing steadily. Team 2 assigned to task. Full report expected in 24 hours. See H.S. for details.
Tau Field Status: The field remains steady and permeable to ingress/egress of all data and bioforms.
Grid Node Report: Stable.
Personnel Report: Immediate retraction of agent from Grid Node 17, Annum 986- was completed as authorized. Grid/annum strea
m was closed and sealed. Agent is debriefing now, and final reports from this grid/annum are available online, per Protocol 5 guidelines. Agent will be transferred to the newly opened stream at Grid 44, Annum 1352+ as soon as he is fully trained (estimate: 3 weeks).
Okay, Pete: yeah, I’m pissed. I mean, why stick me out here on this damn project, pay me this exorbitant salary and entrust me with the biggest blackops program we’ve got if no one is going to listen to me or my team? Why stick all this brainpower out here if it’s just going to be ignored? And don’t tell me this is the way the military works. That’s bullshit…
But, okay, I’ll calm down. No real news to report, though we continue to get some awfully funky readings from Grid 1, Annum 3190+. Funky, I know… I need to be more precise. I’ve got my best people on it, but the stream appears to be extremely unstable. I can’t figure out how to explain what we’re seeing. I’m encoding our captured datastream and attaching the link. Maybe your boys up there can make heads or tails out of it.
And for your information, her name is Ranel, and she’s the perfect mixture of mind and body. We had dinner just the other night, caught a screening of a classic ‘90s movie and… well… a gentleman doesn’t divulge details. Needless to say, it took my mind off of a lot of things.
But really, in all seriousness, see if you can get my point across to those-who-shall-remain-nameless above you. The little hairs on the back of my neck are prickling. I just can’t shake the feeling that something wicked this way comes.
Little Deaths Page 8