by D. B. West
He whipped his head side to side, making the creature gurgle a laugh as it spread its tri-clawed appendages, holding him still. Delmont closed his eyes tightly as the claws ground against his eyelids. Pressing forward sadistically, the monster slowly pierced both of Delmont’s eyes, as his screams echoed out into the parking lot from the shattered glass wall. With a swift jerk, the claws were withdrawn, and Delmont was dropped to the floor. He clutched his face with his uninjured hand, the agony of his empty eye sockets overwhelming even the pain from his torn intestines.
There was only darkness now for him, and the only thing assuring him that he wasn’t yet dead was the pain raging through his shattered body, the horrifying slurping sounds the spider made as it greedily sucked Delmont’s fluids from its claws, and the screams from outside floating in from the broken window. Delmont realized there was one more thing…despite the agony, despite the certainty of his impending death…there was still that fierce, dark joy dancing within him. His entire life it had haunted him. As his friends, his brothers, had died around him in combat, he had endured. Not just endured, but flourished, always overcoming and raising his hands in victory. His lust for battle haunted him, brought him endless guilt…and sustained him.
He latched onto it now, one final time. “Thank god,” Delmont growled, forcing himself back to his feet. “I couldn’t stand the sight of you anyhow, you ugly motherfucker. NOW COME ON!” he roared in defiance.
He heard it gurgle laughter, and then the crackling of the taser as the probes slammed into his face. The blast of electricity jerked him back into the counter, his muscles locking and actually keeping him upright as the current roared through him.
Dropping the taser, the spider gathered Delmont up in its limbs, clutching him tightly until their faces were pressed together. “Play…over,” it breathed heavily into his ear. “Now…feast. Tell…me…”
“NO,” Delmont growled. He didn’t know how, but the taser had cleared his mind. The pain and weakness were gone, and he ripped his right arm free of the creatures grasp. Ducking his head down, he twisted violently, dragging them together closer to the window. Delmont roared “YOU tell ME…what does a Marine do if he goes to Hell?”
The spider’s fangs crashed down, but Delmont’s head was bent low. He slammed his free right elbow into the creature’s mouth, grimacing as it clamped down onto his arm. “He waits in the back of a line,” Delmont hissed through his gritted teeth. With a final heave, he threw himself from the window, dragging the spider with him. Twisting as they fell, he lodged his elbow into its mouth as far as he could.
The spider landed on its back, Delmont’s elbow slamming into the pavement and splattering the creature’s mouth and eyes. Delmont’s arm fared no better, and it flailed grotesquely as the spider’s death spasm threw him off of its body. Delmont came to rest a few feet away, his mutilated arms clutched to his chest as his empty eye sockets stared at the sky.
“Oorah,” he mumbled, before his consciousness finally fled.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Friday August 3rd 10:33 EST
Director Nathan Spencer, Greensboro, N.C.
Director Spencer leaned back in his chair as Agent Soto burst into his office. Her cheeks were flushed and her breathing ragged. “Agent?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.
“Sir, you need to see this immediately,” Soto told him, rushing to the television on his bookshelf. As she turned it on, a flashing red “BREAKING NEWS” banner was plastered immediately across the screen.
“What’s happened now?” Director Spencer demanded, coming around his desk to stand beside the agent.
“The only information we have so far is what the news crews are reporting. This just happened minutes ago. It’s Delmont Jeffries, sir. Look.”
Turning up the volume on the television, they heard the newscaster say, “We want to repeat that this footage is very graphic and disturbing, and contains profanity which we have tried to edit.” A shaky cell phone video appeared on the screen, focused on a floor to ceiling window of an office building.
Voices could be heard on the video screaming as someone yelled, “There he is, there’s Delmont. Oh my God, look at that! What the hell is it?” The video zoomed in, swimming out of focus for a moment before revealing a huge insect towering over a figure the Director recognized. The creature was tearing at the man with multiple clawed legs, while the man appeared to actually rip part of the thing’s head off.
The video spun wildly as gun shots rang out, exploding the window glass and causing whoever was recording to run for cover. A few seconds later, the video picked up from a new vantage point. With the window gone, the giant insect was clearly visible. It appeared to be a nightmarish hybrid of spider and mantis. It was still struggling with Delmont, and Agent Soto covered her mouth, gagging as she watched the creature gouge out the man’s eyes and devour them.
A moment later, blue sparks became visible as the creature picked up what appeared to be a Taser, jabbing Delmont with it gleefully. The screams from the witnesses drowned out any sort of dialogue, though it appeared Delmont was yelling something as he regained his feet. The two figures came together once more, flailing at each other wildly. Agent Soto and Director Spencer both stared, slack-jawed, as Delmont gathered up the insect with a super-human effort, and drug it screeching from the window.
The camera phone lost focus again as the two figures crashed to the ground, but the recorder could be heard yelling, “Fuck yes, Delmont!” as he moved cautiously towards the fallen pair. The insect gave a huge spasm, throwing the broken form of Delmont to the grass nearby, before its legs curled inward in death. While others ran to help the man who had crushed the beast, whoever was holding the cell phone focused on the insectoid corpse.
“World Star, here we come!” he shouted exuberantly, as he moved around the creature. This close, it was clear to see that the insect was more than just some freakish mutant. It had a series of bands fastened around its upper body, securing armored plates to its torso. There were pouches, tools, and other strange items scattered around it. “That’s right world…” the recorder could be heard saying, as censor bleeps began breaking up his speech. “…real life mother-fucking aliens, right here in Greensboro, North Carolina. And you guessed it. We killed that nasty-ass thing. Welcome to Earth, bitch!”
The feed shifted back to the newsroom, where the anchors sat staring at their monitors. “We apologize again for the graphic nature of this footage, and any profanity our censors may have missed. We go now live to the scene, where our crews are standing by to talk to some of the witnesses of this morning’s events.”
Director Spencer turned down the volume on the television. “What have we heard from Donaldson and Stanley? They were assigned to Mr. Jefferies today.”
Soto glanced down briefly, clearing her throat. “Agent Donaldson was able to call in that they had attempted to engage the alien. Agent Stanley was killed, and Donaldson is injured. He insisted on being transported to the hospital along with Mr. Jefferies, to try and watch out for him until other agents arrived.”
“Do we know either of their conditions?” Director Spencer asked.
“Donaldson reports that he is stable. He was struck by the creature and believes he may have broken some ribs. The initial medical assessment for Mr. Jeffries was not promising. Most of his left hand was amputated, his right arm was shattered, he appears to have lost both of his eyes, and he suffered significant internal injuries. We should have more of an update soon.”
“Agent, I want you to contact General Hubbard. Let him know that we have confirmed contact with a hostile alien force targeting civilians. Ask him to send a unit to us to reinforce our position here. Then, find out more about Mr. Jeffries’s condition. If he can be stabilized, I want him moved to our medical facility here where we can better protect him.”
“Immediately, sir. Anything else?” Agent Soto asked.
“Inform the Pentagon that we will be working with the local authorities to s
ecure the body of the alien, and that I will be in touch shortly to get their recommendation. We were able to keep a lid on our ‘guests’ yesterday, but this pot just boiled right over. I have orders from the President to get more information from the group we have in custody, and I intend to do that right now.”
Picking up his tablet, the Director stormed out of his office, leading Agent Soto to the elevators. He nodded at her as she left at her floor, then swiped his authorization card to allow the elevator to continue. There were no buttons on the panel for the floors where their ‘guests’ were residing.
He waved at the soldiers manning the security checkpoint as he arrived on the subfloor, and made his way straight to the observation room where the creatures who identified themselves as “Oraki” were being held. His two technicians were still there, and from their disheveled appearance, did not appear to have left the room since last night.
“Report,” Director Spencer ordered as he entered the room.
The lead technician appeared to have added some stains to his grimy “I Believe” t-shirt. “Sir!” he squeaked, scattering wrappers and cans as he tried to clean up the desk. “It’s been amazing. We’ve been speaking with these two and have hours of recordings…”
“I need the short version. Have they been willing to tell us anything else about their motivations for being here?”
“Ah…sort of? The one called Orak has been adamant that his only reason for being here is to drag Zion back to his people to face charges for revealing himself to us. Orak has been unwilling to speak to us about anything else, but he did indicate that until his people arrive to recover them, he is perfectly happy to sit there in our observation room. He says he will cooperate with anything we need, just so long as we keep Zion in custody. Orak also said that we should not try to move either of them to any other location, as his people, these ‘Elvahn’ will come looking for them here, where that ‘Bore’ last opened. Now the dog, Aki, has been much more talkative! He has been telling us about their research on humanity, and how they…”
Director Spencer raised a hand to silence his technician. “Have they mentioned anything more about the creatures called the Abbadon?”
“No, nothing. We haven’t asked them about the things Zion mentioned in your interview with him yesterday though. We could talk to them about it now, if you like,” the tech said hopefully.
“Not yet. I want to speak to the other one first about some recent developments. Have you learned anything more about possible pathogen transmission from the creatures?”
“Yes!” both techs stated at once, looking at each other excitedly. “The dog, Aki, was quite forthcoming about that when we expressed our concerns. Their research teams expose themselves to our atmosphere on a regular basis, and they have already vaccinated themselves against anything that might cause them harm.”
“I was more concerned if they might have something that could infect us,” Director Spencer said dryly.
“Oh! No sir, absolutely not. Aki assured us that both their species have eradicated most forms of infectious processes, and that they were carefully screened as part of their research teams to make sure they could not accidentally transfer something that might harm our ecosystem. The testing we have done from here so far backs this up, sir. There seems to be no risk of them transmitting anything to us.”
“All right, at least that is one thing we don’t have to worry about.” Director Spencer stared at the odd pair in the containment unit. They were both on the bed, the Elv Orak sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed. The dog took up most of the bed, resting his head in Orak’s lap. They both appeared to be sleeping. Bottles of water were spread out on the table around the video-conferencing equipment. “Have they eaten anything?” the Director finally asked.
“The dog has, sir. The Elv, Orak has not removed its mask at any time. We’re not entirely sure why, honestly. Aki indicated that they can breathe our atmosphere, though their respiratory processes are significantly different. We haven’t gotten much further with that investigation unfortunately. There is just so much to find out from them!”
The Director stared at both of the technicians. They were obviously exhausted, but neither seemed inclined to give up a moment with the two aliens. He decided against showing them the newest updates on the tablet he was carrying. “You two carry on, and continue recording any conversations with the subjects. I’ll be back later.”
“Yes sir. Thank you, sir,” the pair replied.
Inside the containment room, Aki’s ears twitched violently and he shifted his head on Orak’s lap.
“Good,” Orak thought. “Keep their view blocked for me for a bit longer.” Orak shifted position slightly, keeping the screen on his bracer out of the observers’ line of sight.
“Did you pick up what they were discussing in there?” Aki asked.
“Yes. Something else has happened in the last few hours. I’ve been monitoring their news channels as well, and they all exploded a short time ago with stories of a local business being attacked by a ‘giant bug.’”
“Are we sure it’s the Abbadon? Aki cringed as soon as the thought formed, as he felt Orak’s amusement roll through him.
“These humans do tend to get overly excited about wasps and roaches, but their alarm appears justified in this case,” Orak thought. “They captured the creature on video attacking people. It’s only a little larger than a human, it must just be an Infiltrator sent to kill someone specific.”
“Does the video show what happened to it?” Aki asked.
“You remember that dark skinned human in the room yesterday when we first came through the Bore? That man is in this video. He kills the Infiltrator…with his hands.” Orak’s thoughts were tinged with admiration and wonder while reviewing the newscast on the screen attached to his bracer. “The Director is going to talk to Zion. I’m isolating the equipment in that room and tapping it.”
After a few moments, Orak had a clear view of Zion sitting in his cell. Director Spencer could not be seen from the angle of the camera in the room, but their conversation came through clearly.
“Zion,” Director Spencer began. “I have something here I need you to look at.”
Zion disappeared from the screen, then said, “When did this occur?”
“Just a short time ago. Is the creature in this image one of the Abbadon you mentioned?”
“It is,” Zion confirmed. “A small one, by their standards. We called those Infiltrators. They were often used for lone assassination missions. Those types of tactical strikes were a prelude to a larger attack.”
“The man in this image is Delmont Jeffries. He is the same man you say you came to warn yesterday, when you first appeared in the hospital. Explain to me again why you and these Abbadon are so interested in him,” Director Spencer said.
“It’s not just him,” Zion replied. “There are likely others that the Abbadon will be interested in eliminating. They have a variety of methods they may employ, even ways of subjugating humans to their will and using them to carry out attacks. It’s possible that the Abbadon are even now targeting others. This is what I came to warn you about. We knew they were preparing a new assault against your people, and I want to do anything I can to help.”
“What aid do you propose to render, precisely?” Director Spencer asked.
“I understand their tactics, and how to fight them. When they appear in force, which they will soon, I can help your people plan your defenses. For now, that is the best advice I can offer you. Prepare everything you have. Everything. Muster all your forces, and have them on standby at every base and staging area. If the Abbadon appear to focus an attack on a specific person, or if you find one among you who seems to have…let’s say ‘abilities’ outside the norm, isolate and protect them. I can show your people, including this man Delmont, how to harness their power to fight these monsters. When it becomes necessary, call on me. That is why I am here.”
Zion sighed heavily, rubbing at his bald
head. “I cannot imagine what you must think of my kind, after the destruction we have wreaked upon you just to bring you this warning. Please, understand that I had no choice. The lives that have been lost so far are only a drop in the ocean of carnage these creatures will unleash.”
“We take your warning seriously, and will appreciate your assistance in the coming days,” Director Spencer said. “I will advise our commanders of your offer, and your warning. We had hoped for time to deal with the shock of your arrival, but it’s obvious that this awakening is about to get quite a bit ruder.”
The Director’s footsteps could be heard leaving the empty cell block where Zion was kept under guard. Orak watched through the video feed as Zion resumed his seat on his cot. Aki felt a flash of anger through their bond, and raised his head from Orak’s lap, ears twitching.
“What’s wrong?” Aki asked.
“He’s smiling at me,” Orak raged. “I should go find my blade and finish what I started yesterday…”
“They would stop us,” Aki cautioned. “The destruction our arrival caused was inexcusable, and they view us with justifiable hostility. Even if we succeeded, and fled this place…what then? Do we run and fight across their world until the Elvahn come for us? How do you propose to explain THAT to the Assembly”?
“You’re right of course,” Orak seethed in resignation. “We can do nothing against him directly at this moment. I just wish I knew what he was ultimately planning!”
“Maybe we should lay some plans of our own…” Aki left the thought hanging as they heard the air lock begin to cycle.
Orak turned the bracer’s screen off with a quick twist of the wrist. Aki jumped down from the bed as they both stood to greet their visitor. Director Spencer entered the room, flanked by a pair of soldiers.