He is completely naked, showing his back to them.
Ralph and Jennings aim their weapons and torches moving a few steps. Stu follows them keeping an eye in the direction from which they came.
The three stop a dozen meters from the man. Now that the distance is shorter they can see more details and realize that this is an elderly. The long white hair reach down to touch his back, between his shoulder blades. The skin is shiny with sweat and, in the dancing light of the flare, it seems to show a glimpse of the underlying muscles.
Jennings swallows, even though his mouth is completely dry. He has recognized without any doubt the hostage seen in the video found earlier.
Almost as if sensing his thoughts, the man turns around, very slowly.
The survivor of the crash of the Boeing has a bewildered appearance and looks in amazement at the sight of the three soldiers. His gaze appears confused, lost, and his body trembles visibly. He raises a hand pointing to the trio of marines. «You are...»
The man sees only now his shaky arm. He bows slowly his head as if realizing only now that his whole body is completely naked. The old looks again at the marines, moving an uncertain step toward them. «Please help me... What am I doing here? I was on a plane... There was my wife too and... Something happened... I can't...»
The survivor brings his hands to his temples, lowering his head. His voice is uncertain. «I... I can't remember... So much confusion... What am I doing here?»
The man looks back at the three soldiers a few meters in front of him. «Who are you? Where are we? Help me... I'm cold...»
The three look at him stunned, motionless, doubters. Jennings and Stu have seen that old man collapsing to the ground with the skull smashed with a rifle, and then transforming into a monstrous being. Along with Ralph they have seen with their very eyes something similar happening to their unfortunate fellow Black, and yet...
Yet in front of them there is an old man, an old man who trembles, is uncertain and talks like any human being would do in his situation.
A stream of thoughts run through the mind of Jennings.
Just an old man...
Stay sharp and focused, there is something wrong...
Defenseless...
Shit, where's Seagull?
The survivor moves one more step toward them. His skin now appears normal, and seems to have lost the translucency of a moment before.
There's no need being afraid...
Where is the creature that has meandered in the desert to lead us down here?
Relax, everything is fine...
What has destroyed the drone?
Jennings makes an effort of will to escape the flood of extraneous thoughts that seem to distract him by trying to overlap his own thoughts. While keeping an eye on the man in front of him, he shakes his head to wake up from a numbness that is making its way into him. It has the feeling that the atmosphere is becoming overwhelming and somewhat hypnotic as the man approaches.
That's not a man!
«Stop right there!», he shouts to the figure before him. «Or I'm gonna open a hole right in your forehead.»
The man doesn't stop. He brings his hands in front of his chest, palms facing the three soldiers, as if to say to take it easy, and he takes another small step.
With an almost automatic gesture, Jennings unlocks his rifle, again pointing his gun at the man, that is now less than ten meters away.
Stu takes a step back and casts a nervous glance behind him, where he thinks he has just heard a noise, a kind of lapping. The fingers of his left hand whiten in the grip with which he holds the incendiary grenade.
Oblivious to the threat, the old man takes another step toward the three marines. He doesn't tremble anymore, and his tone of voice is different, letting out a growing anger. «Would you open fire against a naked and unarmed American citizen? Holy Christ, I served in the Marine Corps when your mother still used to wipe your ass. Show me respect, what the fuck!»
The shots exploded by Jennings, amplified by the underground cavities, make a roar. The three bullets raise little puffs of dust in front of the man's feet. This one, however, doesn't seem to notice them, and he doesn't stop. With a single gesture he stretches his arms forward, snarling with rage, as if ready to pounce on the three men.
The next burst, fired by Ralph, draws three crimson stars in the man's chest, which seems to lose his balance for a moment, then he recovers in place, standing.
The three look at the scene with growing terror. The elder's gaze is still fixed on them, but despite having the appearances, it no longer has anything human. In that instant the foggy torpor that was pressing on their minds seems to dissipate, and the soldiers become fully aware that the being in front of them has just the shape of an old man, but somewhere, hidden in the recesses of that blank look, the endless depths of a dark and alien mind are hiding.
The blood stops flowing almost immediately from the wounds on the man's chest, while with a sound like sucking, two of the bullets come out from the holes, falling to the ground.
Then the events begin to worsen.
A creepy sound comes out of the man. It's something that the three have already heard. The noise of thousands of insect wings, united to that of crushed bones and other sounds on very low tones. Ralph and Jennings open fire against the man, digging dark red gashes on his chest, arms and legs.
The body in front of them is shaken by blows, it has spasms, but it doesn't fall. With a crack of breaking branches, its joints dislocate. The man's legs begin to lengthen, shortly turning his figure into that of a kind of clumsy wading bird.
«Retreat, retreat!», Jennings shouts, while a sense of helplessness begins to undermine his audacity, seeing that the creature keeps coming in wider leaps. New deformed and monstrous appendages burst out of its trunk. The face of the man seems made of clay, while it deforms, until it ceases to exist, replaced by the aberrant shape of an unknown being, not of this world. A globular star-shaped head, sprawling, covered at the top by a thick forest of needle-like appendages, iridescent, swaying like following an invisible tide and lighting up rhythmically, emitting its own light.
A multicolored plasma, like the skin of some cephalopod species. At the ends of the five tentacles that make up the starry head, an even number of eyes open to look at the soldiers. Red eyes, shining with a glow like burning embers. Strong low-frequency vibrations come from the creature's body, shaking the internal organs of the three soldiers. Sonic waves pass through them like radiation, exerting physical pressure on their bodies as well as on their minds. From the mass of flesh that is constantly changing, which was a man's chest just a few moments before, an elongated shape bursts out. An obscene tubular appendix protrudes, opening with a suction on the bulbous end. A splash of a yellowish liquid is projected towards the three.
Ralph and Jennings jump sideways to avoid it, but the movements are made difficult by the vibrant sound that shakes their bodies, and in moving Jennings stumbles, ending up flat on his back. Ralph, who is behind him, grabs him promptly by his suit, pulling him back, while the other is quick to change magazine and to shoot towards the monstrosity.
A second splash coming from the being hits Jennings on his legs and on the right arm. In the points where the bare skin gets touched, it starts to burn, while his flesh sinks to the bone as if carved by an invisible hand.
Jennings screams but keeps firing desperately against the creature, hitting it on one of its long legs. It breaks with a sharp snap, collapsing the monstrosity to the ground, less than two meters away from the soldier's legs. One of the appendices of the starry structure, formed on top of the creature, stretches twisting and shaping its ends in the awkward shape of a deformed hand. Three fingers culminate in as many claws, as black and shiny as volcanic glass, out of which a greenish and dense fluid starts dripping down. Upon contact with the ground, it sizzles producing an acrid steam. Before Ralph manages to pull back his friend, the creature has a sprint, and the hand tightens on him. The
claws grab Jennings just below his left knee. The man screams in pain.
«Go away! Run!» He shouts to the soldiers with him. With his still intact left arm, he grabs an incendiary grenade peeling away its safety with a bite. Ralph doesn't have time to think, a squirt of whitish matter coming from the creature hits him on the right boot.
Cursing the swarming horror that's crawling and reducing the distance, Ralph turns and starts running. Stu has already moved away from the scene and walks a little further. He has just passed the stretch of path that runs along the underground pond when the explosion of Jennings' grenade seems to demolish the bowels of the Earth. Ralph runs, thinking he will never make it to reach the exit in time before the wave of the explosion overtakes him.
The heavy steps of the soldier resound on the sandy ground. He looks forward toward the cleft in the rock wall. He doesn't notice the subtle ripples shaking the yellowish surface of the underground pond.
He is just at half of the section along the tiny lake, when the water explodes.
With the momentum of an avalanche, something comes out of the muddy puddle, jumping against the soldier. Ralph has just enough time to issue a muffled shout before the monstrous being comes out from the muddy water and overwhelms him, crushing him against the rocky wall.
Meanwhile, Stu arrived at the crack in the wall that separates the two caves, and he turns instinctively to the shout of his friend. The view is terrible. The bottom of the cave is filled by a cloud of advancing flames, but it isn't the only reason of his terror. For a few long moments he watches a monstrous being, the body like a giant centipede which emerged from the water, grabbing Ralph and smashing him against the rock.
The man struggles for his life, he shouts and squirms while splashes of organic matter invest him and one after the other, large pointy appendages as long as an arm, black and smooth as curved daggers, stick into his body dragging him towards a terrifying mouth. A kind of raw cavity, lined with fangs and from which comes a terrible hiss.
Stu is about to run away and take the opening separating the two caves, when a voice shouts to him. «Help me! Stu Help me!»
A familiar voice, which seems to come from somewhere within the huge beast that is tearing Ralph's body. The flames advancing further illuminate the scene with a vivid glow, and Stu can see for a moment the torso of Seagull half emerging from the twisted mass on the side of the creature. His skull and the right side of his body blend deep within the monster. Only the left arm of his friend is quite visible, and it's pointing desperately to him. «Help meeeeeehhhh!»
His voice fades into a scream in multiple tonalities. Other appendages wrap his arm, twisting it and breaking it with a chilling snap, then they lure him deep into the mass of flesh that is constantly changing.
Stu stands still, paralyzed by the sight, when suddenly the creature has a start, as if it was seeing the approaching flames just now. His body contorts heavily, turning to face the only remaining soldier.
Overwhelmed by terror Stu throws an incendiary grenade to the creature. When the bomb reaches the muddy waters he is already running across the opening in the rock and trampling the remains of the drone. Behind him he can hear the repeated thuds of something heavy moving rapidly toward his location.
The man reaches the ropes used for the descent. He shouts terrified as he begins to tinker with the hook of one of the straps, which slips between his sweaty hands and falls on the ground at his feet. At the same time he feels the sound of something huge impacting violently against the rock wall with the crack that they went through earlier.
«Roger, Roger, damn, get me out!»
Stu works frantically trying to fast the snap hooks at the ropes. Meanwhile the soldier on top of the pit starts a desperate battle to bring him up.
The soldier starts moving and rising, while he is hit by the sound of mangled bones and liquid splashing coming from the opening in the wall a few meters away from him. It's like if something is making its way at all costs, forcing itself through a narrow passage. Stu tries to climb faster but his movements are jerky, and his efforts have the sole effect to tug on the rope, making his friend's task even harder.
Doubling his efforts, Roger watches the man down in the well. The friend is about half way up when his terrified screams seem to grow in intensity.
Since the body of Stu fills the view almost completely, Roger has no way to see what is going on beneath him. He breathes heavily in the effort to lift him out of that deathtrap. Suddenly the marine suspended in the air begins to squirm and to swing more, so Roger can have a fleeting view of the horror beneath him. A monstrous head, gigantic and deformed, is facing from the bottom of the well, and it's looking at the two men with eyes full of hatred and a fury that has nothing of human.
The adrenaline rush in the soldier on top of the pit increases his forces tenfold. The skin of his hands is whitened by the effort to desperately pull the rope that holds the colleague. The desperate cries of Stu ring in his ears. The soldier shakes frantically hanging in the well.
He is terrified beyond human comprehension and the pit exit appears distant. He kicks to drive away the creature that is gaining ground in the tunnel beneath him.
Aware of the imminent end, in a glimmer of lucidity he grabs another of the many incendiary grenades that he brought with him and pulls off the safety catch. Horror multiplies when he feels something violently shoving his foot.
Roger aims his feet, grinding his teeth with the effort, then something happens. The rope in his hands is pulled down so violently as to dig deep cuts in the palms of his hands. The marine screams and lets it go, clinging desperately to the sides of the well to stop his inertia and not to slip inside. The terrified cries of Stu have now degenerated into the death-rattle of a slaughtered animal. Roger quickly recovers his balance and, from the top of the well, can barely see his friend disappear into a mass of reddish protoplasm and tentacles that occupy the entire tunnel.
The man looks at the scene for an endless moment, when the world seems to freeze.
A series of strong detonations underground transforms quickly into a small earthquake.
The marine hastes to step aside, before a tall column of organic matter and flames, whose heat burns his face, erupts from the top of the well. Roger falls on his back, feeling the earth move under his body, but he doesn't even have time to get up.
Hell opens under him, while high flames erupt from the fissures that cracked the ground.
USA base CNT222
Dr. Emily Moore and Alexander Ivanov crouch behind a flipped workbench in the laboratory where they have taken refuge. The man moves quickly with consummate skills, working with vials containing chemical components. Moore helps him, peeking over the edge of their hideout to watch the window that runs along the wall. She knows that death can show at any time, either in human form or who knows as what abomination.
Ivanov mixes different acrid-smelling substances, causing reactions that sizzle and generate intense reddish vapors. The woman notices a deep cut on the man's right palm, and her heart seems to freeze when she sees that his blood has a dark color, almost bluish. Her hands tremble and a flask falls to the ground between them without breaking.
«Don't make any noise!», Ivanov whispers softly, as he sees the many emotions in the distraught expression of the woman. He shows the palm of his injured hand. His voice is barely above a whisper. «I got cut while we fled, probably with a piece of the broken window of the room where that boy was locked up. My blood has this color because of the poisonous chemical that I absorbed during all these years. If I was one of those creatures I would have assimilated you earlier, when we were alone and in the dark, don't you agree?»
The woman seems about to get up and run away, her eyes bounce quickly between the hand and the face of the Russian. After a few seconds she seems to calm down. She nods slowly, though her expression tells that she's not entirely convinced. Moore feels clearly that something is wrong. A worrying feeling about a missing particul
ar on which she can't focus right now.
«Please», says the man, pointing at something with a movement of his face. «I need you to be sharp and focused now, okay? Take that box with the test tubes. I need their polystyrene case.»
Moore obeys, wondering about his intentions. Almost sensing her thoughts, he hastens to explain, always whispering. «By combining ammonia and iodine crystals you can create a powerful explosive. It's harmless when it's wet, but if it's dry it can detonate on impact. Believe me, just a tiny amount – one that can fit on the tip of a knife – can wipe an arm away. I added something else to mitigate its excessive reactivity, so it won't explode in our hands or pockets as we move. Furthermore, polystyrene will be helpful to prepare an incendiary mixture. By dissolving it in a flammable solvent we can make a viscous and sticking gel, making a sort of rudimentary napalm.»
«Do you want to make bombs?»
«Vyacheslav Molotov», the Russian whispers with a hint of pride, while he covers the cap of some large vials with lumps of a brownish material.
You have modeled the detonating substance by wrapping it on the stopper of those tubes, now that it's still wet... So you got an impact-trigger, and you won't need any fire to ignite them...», says Moore.
«Exactly», he whispers. «This system is the best when you fight in the dark, because no fire is needed to trigger it and you can strike without being noticed. Let's hope to be lucky enough to find the right balance between responsiveness and safeness. Anyway, I'll keep a few of those vials aside, to trigger them with the traditional system.»
In the wake of his last words, Ivanov tears a flap of tissue from his white coat, attaching it under the cap of one of the vials containing the flammable liquid.
They go on with their job, quickly assembling other incendiary bombs. The air in the room is permeated by the stench generated by the chemical reactions. It burns in their noses and their throats, and they have to restrain themselves more than once not to cough.
«You, in your spirit, remind me very much of someone I care about, Dr. Moore», Ivanov whispers, giving voice to his thoughts without intention. The former tense atmosphere between the two scientists has partly faded away.
Cellular Activity- The Djinn Page 18