by L. T. Ryan
All fourteen men waited in silence. Sean presumed that Turk wanted to wait and see if the guards were being monitored by forces inside the facility. If so, they’d come out through the entrance, the perfect bottleneck, within the next minute or two. Or perhaps they’d unleash some other kind of attack. Sean didn’t want to think about that, though. He continued with the belief that if someone was going to come and retaliate, they’d be human and a single bullet to the chest would stop them.
The final twinges of pinkish-red sky faded behind the horizon. Sean switched to his night vision goggles. He tried to remain focused on the entrance, but his sights kept drifting toward the graveyard. Perhaps it was simply human nature, a need to fill in the blanks and have all questions answered, but he couldn’t stop wondering what was buried under the dirt mounds. Had those things buried the man Jules had killed the night before, perhaps alongside the bodies of the creatures Delta had killed? Or were the bodies that lay there those of humans who perished at the hands of the beings?
Sean saw the outline of a hunched-over figure moving at a slow pace between two rows of loose dirt. Even from this distance, the eyes stood out against the rest of the body. Sean was sure that if he could see the thing up close and without night vision goggles on, those eyes would glow brown or green or blue, even in the dark. The figure stopped next to one of the gravesites. Sean waited to see if it would lean over, presumably to scoop up dirt and sniff it, possibly in an attempt to find a loved one. But the being didn’t bend, nor did it reach into the dirt. Instead, it straightened and dropped its head back. He remembered how the woman had done the same thing earlier that day, her eyes closed and nostrils flared wide. At that moment, he also became aware of a light wind blowing against the back of his sweaty neck. The breeze that cooled him would also carry their scent in the direction of the graveyard, and that thing.
Sean scooted back until he was below the ridgeline. “Turk,” he whispered.
Turk looked over his shoulder, crawled backward until he was next to Sean.
“What?” Turk said.
Sean took a breath and then said, “There’s one in the graveyard. I think it knows we’re here.”
“Why?”
“It changed posture, like the woman, or thing, earlier today. I get the feeling they do that to, I don’t know, maybe sense what’s around.”
Turk nodded, said nothing.
“And the wind is blowing in that direction. It’s carrying our scent right to it.”
Turk reached up and rubbed his eyes, leaving smudges of dirt on his cheeks. “Okay.” He shifted into a crouching position and approached Gilmore. “Gilly,” he said. “Scan the area to your left. It might look like a graveyard, mounds of dirt on the ground and shit. You see anything alive in there, shoot it.”
Gilmore nodded, adjusted his rifle and his position so he could scout the graveyard.
“Make it a head shot,” Turk added.
Sean resumed his position at the top of the hill and relocated the being. It was moving, shuffling in their direction. Its right foot would step forward, then its left would drag along the ground, foot cockeyed, until both legs were even. Sean wondered if the man they encountered the night before moved this way when walking. Perhaps these things walked slowly when they didn’t have a purpose. Only when their intent was to hurt or kill, or maybe even feed, did they move fast.
The thing stopped again, now about halfway between the men and the graveyard. The distance was deceiving, though. The last third would be uphill, and with as slow as it walked, that would take a while. Even if it sprinted toward their position, the uphill climb was certain to slow it down.
“Gilly, what’s taking so long?” Turk said, a little too loud, mirroring Sean’s thoughts exactly.
“Frickin’ trying to line up this shot,” Gilmore said. “His head… the damn thing moves in my scope.”
“What do you mean it moves?” Turk said. “I’m watching it. It’s still as a damn rock.”
“Moves isn’t the right word,” Gilmore said. “It shimmers.”
Turk cursed and rose up a foot or two to pass over the four men between him and Gilmore. He dropped to his stomach, and Sean felt a puff of wind and a thin layer of dirt coat his face.
“Let me see your rifle,” Turk said.
Gilmore shifted to his right and Turk maneuvered himself behind the weapon. He placed his eye to the scope. “Where the frig is it?”
A sliver of panic passed through Sean. He swung his head to the left and scanned the area below them. The thing had disappeared.
“I don’t see it,” Sean said.
At that moment, a shrill shriek erupted from no more than twenty feet from them. As soon as the sound had passed, the thing hovered over Gilmore and flipped him over and then swiped at the SEAL’s neck. Gilmore’s screams were drowned in the blood that spewed forth from the gaping hole in his throat.
Turk was the first to react. He rose to his knees and swung the M91A2 around. Three bullets remained in the magazine. He fired all three in rapid succession. The first hit the thing in the abdomen, only causing a slight reaction in the form of a grunt. The next two shots were perfect, one smashing into the center of its forehead, and the other on the right side, an inch above the ear.
Sean watched as its body folded over and fell to the ground in a heap, still and silent.
“Ryder, Jules,” Turk said, slowly and deeply. “Help Gilly.”
Sean remained frozen for a minute as he processed what had happened. He had to compartmentalize it and focus on helping Gilmore. That’s what he and Jules were there for. The SEALs had medical training, but PJs were the most prepared to deal with combat injuries, especially life-threatening wounds. He grabbed Jules by the collar and both men rushed to Gilmore’s body, each taking a side. They pulled him down the hillside a few feet so that the tops of their heads weren’t exposed over the hill crest.
“Need light,” Sean said.
Someone shone a light over his shoulder, aiming the strong beam at Gilmore’s head. The light reflected off of the man’s dull and lifeless eyes. The grievous wound had severed both carotid arteries, and what little blood pressure remained pumped out what was left of his blood. Sean knew at that moment there was no point in attempting resuscitation, but he and Jules did everything they could. Kneeling in a pool of a mixture of Gilmore’s and the being’s blood, Sean applied pressure to the dead man’s neck.
The team was quiet. There were no words of encouragement. Every man could tell Gilmore was gone by the amount of blood on the ground and the size of the hole in his neck.
“Stop,” Turk said.
Sean rocked back on his heels and looked down at his soaked crimson-colored hands. He felt drops of fluid falling from his fingers and splattering on his pants.
The sounds of nature had disappeared. There were no chirping birds. The ever-present hum of insects could no longer be heard.
The men looked at one another then crept up to the hilltop.
Sean saw the outlines of five or six beings at the foot of the hill. The quiet night was soon full of their howls and shrieks as they ascended the hill toward the team. Or perhaps toward the body in an attempt to recover it. A hail of gunfire erupted around Sean. He noticed Jules collapse onto his back and worried for a second that his partner had been hit, or attacked by one of those things. Jules reached down and grabbed his pistol from his thigh holster, then rolled over and began firing. Sean did the same.
After a minute of incessant gunfire, the air smelled of cordite and the area was still and quiet again, save for the high-pitched hum in Sean’s ears. He scanned the area below them and saw bodies scattered across the hillside. None of the bodies moved, and none appeared to be breathing. Instinctively, he looked toward the graveyard to see if any more were approaching. His gut told him that’s where the ones they’d gunned down came from, even if he only recalled seeing one. Relief flooded his system when he saw that the area between them and the graveyard and the entrance to the facility was empty.
He wasn’t sure if it was misplaced or not, but at that moment he felt that they’d be safer inside.
Turk started down the hill, and without a word spoken, his team followed. Everyone moved with a sense of urgency, masking the pain they all felt at the loss of Gilmore.
“We better go,” Sean said to Jules, who nodded in response.
They descended the hill, wasting no time crossing the remaining distance to the entrance. Turk headed to the right and inspected the body of one of the deceased guards. He shone a light over the man and dug through his pockets, producing a bundle that appeared to hold an ID card.
“Christ,” Turk said. “I don’t think these were guards.”
“Why’s that?” Sean said.
“This badge indicates he’s part of a NATO force.” Turk looked back at his men. “Someone check the other guy.”
Bates returned a moment later with an ID card and said, “Same with this guy.”
“What were they doing then?” Sean said.
Turk shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe these are fake? To get them in and out of the area?”
“Maybe you should call it in?” Sean said.
“Nah,” Turk said. “Not right now. Let’s get inside.”
Two men worked on the entrance door while the rest took position and watched over the area. At this point, they knew they had to be ready for an attack originating from anywhere. The beings were capable of getting there in the blink of an eye, so they had to be spotted and dealt with at once.
Turk and Sean slipped through the opening first. They hunched and squatted down in an effort to move through a tunnel that angled downward. The faint glow of light could be seen, and it looked like the tunnel curved before it reached the source of the illumination. It took the two men about a minute to reach the other end of the shaft.
Despite everything that had happened in the previous twenty-four hours, Sean found himself unprepared for what he saw as he crouched down and stuck his legs out of the tunnel, lowering them to the floor. He ducked his head, clearing the overhang, and then straightened his body. Fluorescent light fixtures cast a dim yellow glow over the area. There were trails of blood on the ground. The fluid was of varying shades of red and different textures, indicating how fresh or old it was. Some spots were considerably darker than others, and Sean realized those spots didn’t contain blood, but rather human feces scraped along the ground as if dragged by feet that didn’t, or perhaps couldn’t, break contact with the floor. Bloody handprints lined the walls from floor to ceiling. In some spots, thick rivers of crimson flowed from the prints on the wall to the floor. There were deep scratches etched into the wall and he found himself imagining some deranged being clawing at the walls with bloody stumps where fingernails had once been.
“What the holy hell happened here?” Turk said from behind Sean.
Sean shook his head. He found no words to describe what he felt. His eyes continued to scan the hallway. He saw offices with busted windows. Lights flickered throughout the hall and in the rooms.
Finally, the entire team filled the small area of the lobby. Everyone remained silent and stood in place, presumably contemplating what had happened to create the macabre scene they stood before. The place was quiet. Good, in a way, because it helped Sean feel that danger was not imminent. On the other hand, he had the distinct feeling that something was watching them, and if the team didn’t make the correct move, it would pounce without warning.
“All right,” Turk said as he pushed to the front of the group. “We need to find a secure location for command. Let’s get moving.”
Chapter 6
The sound of the group moving the through the hall echoed inside Sean’s head. He knew he heard it because his training had attuned him to listening for such things. Reality was that they moved down the hall as a silent amoeba, shifting as the group changed shape when necessary. Sean and Jules were in the middle of the group, shielded by SEALs on all sides.
The buzz from the light fixtures above them rose and fell as they passed underneath them. Every so often, a light appeared to be on the fritz, flickering between low and high illumination like a strobe light, or cutting off entirely.
They came to a corner office set against an intersecting hallway. Sean craned his head to check the darkened corridor. To his left, the hall dead ended after ten feet. To the right, it extended further than he could see because of the darkness. The lights had either burned out, or been smashed out. He didn’t think either option was out of the realm of possibility.
He slipped between the men next to him and stepped into the open doorway of the empty office. The windows surrounding the room on both sides had been broken. Jagged shards of glass remained attached to the frame, while tinier fragments littered the floor. The wooden door was split down the middle, and only attached to one set of hinges. If Sean touched it, he was sure it would sway like a pendulum, scraping along the floor. A monitor lay face down on the desk. He saw a keyboard upside down on the floor, several of its keys scattered throughout the office. He noticed a small puddle of blood on the corner of the desk and the floor below it. Upon further inspection, he saw a clump of hair and bloodied scalp attached to the sharp corner.
It was the fifth office they had passed, but Turk hadn’t shown any intention of stopping to investigate. Why? Did he know more than he had let on? He had given Sean plenty of information, but there were pieces of the story missing. Things that didn’t make sense, perhaps because they couldn’t make sense.
Sean left the office and quickly and silently resumed his position within the group. The man next to him shook his head and shot him a look. But Sean didn’t care. They were in unfamiliar territory, and he justified his actions as being potentially helpful later on if he found himself roaming these halls while struggling to survive. There was no field manual for what they had seen, or for what he feared they would encounter in the pits of the facility.
Turk lifted a fist into the air and stopped. He hunched over and moved to his left, then stuck his head inside an office through a hole in a smashed window. He pulled out of the hole and made eye contact with Sean.
“Come on,” he said.
Sean pushed past the men next to him again and met Turk near the office door. Turk had his hand on the knob and began turning it.
“What is it?” Sean said.
Turk shook his head, then leaned his shoulder into the door and pushed it open. They were greeted with the foul smell of a decomposing body. In the hall, the smell of the corpse had mixed with blood and feces and ammonia, and had gone unnoticed. Except, it seemed, by Turk. However, inside the office, the stench was enough to cause Sean’s stomach to turn.
“Where’s the body?” Sean said, looking over Turk’s shoulders in an attempt to get a better look around.
Turk reached out and spun an office chair. The black leather chair swung to the right and came to a stop dead center in front of the two men. A faceless figure slumped in the seat. Its hands were missing. So were its legs below the knees. Dark blood caked the jagged ends where extremities had once protruded.
“What the frig?” Sean said as he backed up until he hit the wall.
Turk took a step forward, leaned over, placed his hands on his knees, appeared to be investigating the remains of the man’s face. Turk’s head dropped to the left, then the right, then he straightened his body and turned at the waist, making eye contact with Sean.
“Bite marks,” Turk said.
“What?” Sean said.
“Someone chewed his face off.”
Sean steeled himself and took four steps forward. He stopped next to Turk and leaned over, placing his left hand on his knee and keeping the other on his Beretta M9 semiautomatic 9mm pistol. He held his breath as he placed his face closer to the remains of whoever had once occupied the seat. The nose was missing, and so were the eyes. All that was left were hollow sockets that had been gouged bare. The flesh around the cheeks had been stripped off in chunks, down to the bone in som
e spots. It looked like Turk had been correct in his assumption. The edges of the wounds showed the distinct patterns of bite marks. Sean glanced down at the stubby arms and legs and wondered if whoever, or whatever, had done this to the man’s face, had also chewed off his extremities.
Sean stood and took a couple steps back. His head felt heavy, drowning under the weight of the discovery. Was this all a dream? Surely, there was no possible way they could have seen any of what they’d seen over the last twenty-four hours.
Gunfire erupted in the distance, and Sean, with his hand still on the handle of his M9, retrieved his pistol and spun toward the sound of the shots.
Turk pushed past Sean and exited the office, resuming his spot at the head of the group. The SEAL team dropped into position, each man covering another and watching an area of the hall. Two men took off toward the sound of the gunfire without being told. They stopped further down the hall, at the edge of the intersection with the dark corridor.
The spattering of bullets, and the echo they produced throughout the hall, ended almost as abruptly as they began.
For the first time that day, Sean felt that their mission might include rescue, and not only recovery. He considered the possibility that one of those things had a weapon, but dismissed the thought. His experience so far, as limited as it was, indicated that the beings didn’t have the instincts to use weapons. They didn’t need them, judging by how easily one had killed Gilmore.
“All right, everybody,” Turk said. “We’re gonna investigate down there, but not until we’ve reached the end of the perimeter hallway.”
Sean fell back in formation and the group began moving again. He felt as though he moved with a purpose now that there was a possibility of finding someone alive. It didn’t matter who it was. He hoped they could get there in time to save them. He looked to his right to share his enthusiasm with Jules, and saw the man struggling to keep his eyes open.
“You doing all right?” Sean said.
Jules turned his head and nodded. “Yeah. A bit tired and my head hurts. But I’ll be OK.”