by Luke Romyn
Arriving at a solid wall, Talbot was confronted by two sets of stairs, one going up and the other descending. He took the set going down.
The steps were narrow and steep, like those on a ship, and he descended them backwards with care. At the bottom he turned and almost fell over in shock. Ranged out before him were rows upon rows of armored vehicles: fourteen HMMWV Humvees, five LAV-25s light armored vehicles, six HIMARS rocket delivery vehicles, and seven M1A1 Abrams battle tanks.
"Replacement vehicles for the ones they've lost at Base Bravo," said a voice behind him. Talbot spun around and saw Captain Benedict descending the stairs. "They're probably the last ones we'll be able to get out of Quantico."
"What's going on here, Captain?" demanded Talbot. "And don't give me any bullshit about protocol. I need information." Captain Benedict ran his shaky hand back through his hair, and Talbot caught a glimpse of how anxious he actually was.
"The truth is we're losing a battle against a foe we don't even know how to fight."
"But the United States has the best military force in the world, with the most advanced weapons. How can you be losing?" asked Talbot.
Captain Benedict raised haunted eyes and met Talbot's gaze. "The things we're fighting aren't from this world. They're immune to almost anything we throw at them. You saw that damn cyclops back there. It was only thanks to luck we were able to trap it the first time. Now it's loose again, and it'll destroy the entire base before coming after us."
"Come after us?" asked Talbot. "Why would it come after us?"
Captain Benedict's eyes flitted away. "They're drawn to you, just like they were drawn to your brother. We're not sure why."
Talbot's legs buckled unceremoniously, and he only barely managed to lean back against a Humvee, avoiding complete collapse by gripping the hood so hard it hurt.
"Your brother wasn't killed in a rockslide," continued the marine. "He died doing something else entirely, but leading up to that point, every single creature which got loose was hunting him. Like the gryphon attacking us midair - or did you think that was just a coincidence?"
Talbot thought about it. He hadn't had time to consider why the creatures were attacking them, he'd been too terrified. Thinking back, though, that wasn't real fear. What he was going through now was real fear. Right now he wished more than anything to return to that level of shock, the same as he'd felt in the Super Stallion. He was moved so far beyond it now, into pure, absolute terror that he felt sure he might suffer an aneurism at any moment.
"Once you're within proximity of these beasts, they'll lock on to you, just like they did your brother. And we can't stop them."
"Don't sugarcoat it for me," muttered Talbot, his voice thick with sarcasm as he moved away from the Humvee to stand unsupported once more, albeit on shaking legs.
"I'm sorry, Doctor Harrison, but when somebody asks me something, I prefer to be honest. At least now you know where you stand."
"How does something like this happen without everyone knowing?" asked Talbot.
"How does the Yeti stay out of the media? The Loch Ness Monster?" countered Captain Benedict. "Nobody wants to believe it. Plus, the President ordered a complete and utter media blackout on this issue. Some of those high-up know what's going on, but they've been ordered to remain quiet about the whole affair."
"So much for freedom of speech," murmured Talbot.
"Anyway, I've already said too much," snapped Captain Benedict, his tone once more commanding. "If you insist on wandering around, you might as well give me a hand. At least then I can keep an eye on you." His manner suggested there would be no arguing this issue, and Talbot meekly followed the captain back to the stairs, ascending them, and then continuing up the next set to the uppermost level of the thermo-carrier. By this stage, Talbot thought he might be immune to any more shocks.
He was wrong.
Arrayed before him were various laboratory work stations. Scientists in white lab coats glanced up and stiffened as Talbot emerged, but seeing Captain Benedict accompanying him they calmly resumed their work.
Staring at the work stations, unable to tear his eyes away, their work seemed focused around the dissection of various creatures, things he had only ever heard of in fable.
On the closest counter, he saw a squat figure stretched out, its chest ripped open, dead eyes staring at nothing. Although the upper body strongly resembled a muscular dwarf, its legs were completely covered in thick curly black fur all the way down to where the feet should have been. But there were no feet, the stumpy legs instead ended in cloven hooves.
The face of the creature possessed nothing even remotely human about it. Fangs protruded from its elongated maw, and where the nose should have been there were merely two slits. The hairless cranium was topped by two barbed horns, coated in a gooey liquid which Talbot noticed the scientist avoiding with care.
"It's known as a satyr," said Captain Benedict beside him, "like the Greek God named Pan, apparently. This one was a vicious little bastard too; killed four of my men before we took him down with an RPG."
Rocket Propelled Grenades usually served for taking out lightly armored vehicles or factions of troops, sometimes even aircraft. The fact that one had been used on this four-foot-tall creature, and yet it still remained in one piece bespoke the incredible toughness of these beasts.
"They had to use a diamond-tipped saw just to penetrate the skin," continued the captain.
"My brother spoke of these creatures in one of the few mythology lectures of his I attended," recalled Talbot, a note of sorrow in his voice. "He described them as peaceful creatures."
"Does that fucking thing look peaceful to you?" snapped the captain. "The shit dripping from its horns lets them cut through a Humvee's armor like hot piss through snow. These scientists have no idea what it is, but it works like acid, except it's about a hundred times more potent than any acid on this planet. You don't want to see what it does to people."
Talbot glanced at Captain Benedict and saw a twinge of horror in his expression as he stared at the small creature. This thing had left a mark on the battle-hardened marine. Attempting to distract him, Talbot moved to the next station, gasping at what he found there.
Arrayed here was a woman of astounding beauty, marred by the fact that her body below the neck seemed comprised entirely of broken and splintered branches. Withered bark sprouted from the woman's breasts, and moss rounded the mound between her legs. The wood itself appeared sickly and rotten, and part of the left leg deeply charred and burned.
"Gorgeous, isn't she?" asked Captain Benedict. Talbot gazed at the face and nodded. "It's called a dryad, another supposedly peaceful creature from Greek mythology. This thing tore through half a squad before they were able to take it down with a combination of incendiary grenades and heavy suppressing fire. It was brought in just before we arrived at Quantico."
Talbot peered at the trunk-like torso of the dryad, trying to find evidence of bullet wounds, or holes, or whatever heavy suppressing fire would do to a sexy walking tree. He glimpsed something moving across her torso and leaned in closer to see what it was. It was some kind of insect, a beetle or -
The dryad's right arm shot up impossibly fast and gripped Talbot by the throat, the talon like a steel vice. The eyes of the creature snapped open, and it sat up on the bench, drawing him closer at the same time, its mouth yawning open, impossibly wide and revealing rows of shark-like fangs within.
KABOOM!!!
The shot echoed around the room, and scientists scattered. Talbot, struggling furiously to draw breath, saw the beast's head snap back and its grip lessened slightly, allowing him a tiny gasp.
KABOOM!!!
This time the bullet entered the creature's eye and penetrated beyond, dust and splinters spraying from the hole. The beast went limp, the talon dropping instantly from Talbot's throat as the dryad crashed back lifelessly onto the work station. Talbot leaped backwards, holding his bruised throat as he scurried away, wheezing painfully, and try
ing to draw in as much air as possible.
Captain Benedict stood, his Desert Eagle drawn and expertly aimed, smoke curling from the end of the barrel like an Arnold Schwarzenegger cigar. When the creature failed to move, the captain cautiously approached the counter, placing the barrel against its other eye and squeezing the trigger.
Bachoonk!
More smoke and splinters sprayed from the second ruined eye socket, and the marine stepped back, striding to where Talbot cowered on the floor.
"Are you okay, sir?" he asked, keeping his gaze and weapon trained on the dryad.
Talbot probed his bruised throat. "I think so," Talbot croaked.
"Those idiots are supposed to make sure these things are dead before transporting them, and they know the only way to be certain is to penetrate the eyes. Damn."
"They were probably too busy running for their lives, what with that cyclops razing your base and all," said Talbot, the aching in his neck slowly fading.
"Good point," agreed Captain Benedict with a slight grin. "And I can't condemn them too much, I forgot to check too."
***
Captain Benedict studied Talbot, checking him thoroughly for any sign of injury. He noticed the dryad incident had left the smaller man shaken, but otherwise unhurt.
"Captain," began Talbot, "what's your first name?"
The marine was taken aback by the question. He'd been expecting anything but that.
"Er, my first name is Charles, but most people call me Chuck."
Talbot looked at him appraisingly before grasping his hand and shaking it vigorously. "Well, thank you, Chuck, for saving my life."
"It's my duty, sir," he answered uncomfortably.
"That doesn't take anything away from the fact you did it. Now if you don't mind, I think I'd like to leave this little menagerie before something else tries to kill me." Talbot managed a weak grin.
Captain Benedict found himself reassessing Doctor Harrison as they returned to the stairs. After their first meeting, and the ensuing encounter with the gryphon, Chuck had silently cursed. Although so physically identical to his brother, the man lacked some other indefinable quality which made people notice Thomas.
He'd thought this babysitting job would be much more difficult, minding the nerdy archaeologist - the weaker of the two brothers. He couldn't be that important or else they would have assigned Thomas's bodyguard to protect him; Chuck had figured Talbot was just being brought along in case they found a use for him, but now he wasn't so sure.
That cyclops had broken out for a reason; it was searching for something... or someone. Captain Benedict's eyes returned to Doctor Harrison once more.
Despite Talbot's average build, there were some wiry muscles concealed beneath his loose shirt. The incident with the dryad should have left him close to mental collapse. Truthfully, the events of the day would have broken most men, but the doctor seemed to be taking it all in his stride. Either he was in complete denial, or he possessed more intestinal fortitude than Chuck would have ever credited him for.
Talbot led him back down to the middle level of the thermo-carrier and took a seat in a booth near the eating area, folding down the table attached to the wall before motioning for Chuck to take the seat opposite him.
"What happened to my brother, Chuck?"
The question shook him to the core. He'd been briefed not to disclose any of the details of Thomas Harrison's death, but now he felt unsure of his superiors' reasoning. They didn't believe the nerdy doctor could handle the truth, but Chuck wasn't so sure. His newfound insight into the man seated across from him spoke of a deeper grit and determination than any of them had witnessed thus far.
Benedict decided instinctively in a microsecond - the marine way. Gathering his thoughts, he stared Talbot dead in the eye.
"He wasn't killed in a landslide, sir."
Talbot nodded. "With everything going on around here, I figured that. Go on."
"Most of the creatures we've encountered from the other place are incredibly powerful, but they're still mortal, much like the dryad upstairs. Hard to take down, but there's usually a way. Their eyes are a weak point, but they seem to realize this and protect them well. I only took down the dryad so easily because she was more intent on ripping your head off than worrying about me."
The doctor nodded, his brows narrowing slightly at mention of his near death experience mere moments before. Otherwise he showed no reaction to something which must have surely terrified him.
Chuck swallowed, preparing to dive off the cliff into the unknown. If the doctor responded in any way other than how he hoped, their entire mission could be compromised.
"There is one creature which doesn't have this weakness - in fact, it has no weakness at all so far as we know."
He diverted the conversation slightly, delaying the inevitable. "Your brother was part of the advance team which entered the rift, trying to close it from the other side -"
"From the other side?" interrupted Talbot. "Nobody said anything about going into that damn thing!"
"General Sharpe believed it was the only way to close the rift. He took complete control of the situation and ordered a team to be assembled to go through the rift and investigate what was on the other side. He claimed it was the only way to close it. And so your brother, the only one able to manipulate the machinery or read the language, was sent with the team through the rift."
"Into Tartarus," murmured Talbot.
"What's Tartarus?" asked Captain Benedict, noting the look of surprise which crossed Talbot's face. He shrugged the issue aside. "We were simply told we were going into unknown territory with potential hostiles. Instead we found a place you can't even begin to imagine. Some of the guys were saying afterward that it was like that place in Greek mythology where the dead go. What was it called?"
"Hades?" suggested Talbot.
"That's it," agreed the captain. "But nothing written or imagined by man could have prepared us for what lay on the other side of that rift."
"Us?" queried Talbot. "You mean you were with Thomas?"
Chuck cursed silently; he hadn't meant to divulge that. It would be hard to deny knowing things when the inevitable questions arose. "Yes sir," he admitted with a nod.
"So what happened once you were through the rift?"
"We were attacked by things. Some like those you've seen, others you can't even imagine. Most of which I'm not at liberty to disclose to you at this time," he added when he saw the question about to emerge from Doctor Harrison. Talbot relaxed back and motioned for him to continue.
"We were gone for a long time. But then again time seems distorted there, and when we made it out only moments had passed, even though it felt like we were in that place for months. The creatures attacked us in ways we were never trained to defend against, and the land itself seemed to suck the confidence from us. It was like we'd entered a place where happiness couldn't exist. A lot of the guys fell apart before we even encountered anything threatening. I don't know if it was just our own fear playing against us, but there were some hugely brave men who went into that place, who crumbled without even seeing conflict. I'll always remember the ground - it was like walking on a huge tongue - and I kept thinking we were inside a massive mouth or something. It's hard to explain. Several other issues emerged, but we managed to overcome these before encountering... it."
"What?" asked Talbot.
Captain Benedict swallowed heavily again, memories of the horror threatening to engulf him like a firestorm.
"It started out quite small, and some of the men laughed when they saw it, thinking we'd been worried over your brother's warning for nothing. Once it attacked, however, nobody laughed. I vaguely remember men screaming and blood spraying. But for the most part I was too busy shooting at the damn thing."
Chuck drew a deep, shuddering breath. "It grew as it attacked the men around me - some fifty battle-hardened marines - and none of our weapons had any effect. We might as well have been using paper pellets for al
l the good they did us."
"What was it?" Talbot asked, his eyes widening.
"It was Cerberus," Chuck replied simply, too simply for something so incredibly powerful. The howls of the beast would haunt him forever.
Thomas had warned them it would be one of their toughest obstacles, but the three-headed puppy which had emerged through the gates as they approached had struck them as clumsy and comical. The three heads had even raised a few jokes, as did the serpentine tail.
"Cerberus," muttered Talbot, pronouncing it with a hard 'C'. "Was it as bad as Thomas thought?"
"Worse. Much worse." The captain shuddered, his voice haunted. "It began by physically tearing the men to shreds, killing half the advance squad in moments."
"How did you escape?" asked Talbot.
Chuck dropped his gaze once more, shame coursing through him. "Your brother saved us."
"Thomas? How?"
The captain shook his head. "Damned if I know. He screamed at us to get out of there, and then started chanting in that strange language. Whatever he was saying, Cerberus was distracted long enough for us to retreat. Only four men made it back to the rift. Your brother wasn't one of them."
"So you left him behind?" demanded Talbot.
"We thought he was with us, sir, I swear it. Nobody realized until we were back at the rift. And then we heard the scream."
"What scream?"
"At first I didn't even recognize it as human, but it was definitely your brother. The ground began to quake, and we escaped back through the rift. It's not something I'm proud of."
Talbot rose ponderously from the table, gazing down at the captain with measured disdain.
"So," he intoned, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion, "my brother is dead because you ran away and abandoned him."
He stalked off toward the front of the cabin, leaving Chuck alone, a hollow burning gnawing within him.
CHAPTER 3