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 particular 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.
The woman is about to say something, but then she notices that something has changed in Ivanov’s expression, and this makes her silent and keep listening.
For a few tense moments, the silence is pierced by the beating of their hearts.
“We have company”, he whispers, hurrying to seal the last explosive vial.
The woman feels like a void in her chest, as if her heart had stopped beating. She holds her breath, while eavesdropping in search for the smallest clue.
Nothing…
She pops a questioning look to Ivanov, but it only lasts a moment.
She hears it.
A liquid shuffling sound…
There’s something…
Dragging on the floor…
In the hallway…
The noise is clearly increasing…
It’s approaching!
ALGERIAN DESERT
“Shit! Shit!”, the only words that come out from the mouth of a shocked Will Bailey. He can see the scene from a safe distance, from the roof of the Humvee. Everything happened too fast, even just to think about doing anything. In few seconds the marine has seen the attempts of Roger Mason to retrieve someone out from the well.
Before Bailey could realize what was happening, he has seen a column of fire erupting violently from the well and has heard the explosions. In the brief moments that have followed, the entire place opened like the hell’s mouth, swallowing everything that was in the ruins’ area, including the other Humvee. All disappeared in a pit of flames that seem to come straight out the fiery bowels of the planet.
More explosions have further shaken the area when the fire has reached the explosives packed on the vehicle and its fuel tank. Dense black clouds have risen through the sky, intense flames swirl violently within them.
Will Bailey and Jeff Michigan, the only two survivors, have moved away at a safe distance, obeying to Seagull’s orders. Later on, they have moved again, taking the Humvee on top of a high dune. Once there, they had a better view of the scene. Now they can peek inside the enormous crater that formed in the middle of the desert. Its bottom is hidden by flames and smoke. Even from a distance they can perceive the intense heat.
“My God… they are all dead…”, murmurs Michigan.
After several minutes of silent dismay, Bailey shakes him to bring him back to reality. “May Lord have mercy of their souls. We must leave immediately. Did you hear me? Jeff! Let’s go back to the base. Nothing and no one could have survived that hell.”
USA BASE CNT222
Moore and Ivanov are frozen motionless, hidden behind the flipped workbench.
How much time elapsed?
The seconds seem like hours, meanwhile the noise of something crawling in the hallway in front of the lab room reaches again their ears at random intervals, each time increasing in intensity.