“Run, now!”, Ivanov shouts, after another bomb feeds further the flames that devour the monster a few meters ahead of them. The man rushes to the lab door and pushes the open button on its side. While the panel slide aside, Ivanov turns to the woman, who’s staying behind. He urges her to move.
“Come on!”, he shouts, but an icy terror freezes him, when he notices the distraught look of the woman’s face. She isn’t looking at him. She stares at the giant humanoid figure which stands immediately beyond the threshold.
Before he can turn around, Ivanov feels an iron grip grabbing his throat and lifting him from the floor.
Moore screams terrified.
We are doomed…
The being steps slowly over the threshold, lit by the flames in the left section of the lab. The raging fire is devouring the other creature’s body that keeps writhing. The human shape, crudely sketched, holds with one hand the body of Ivanov, who kicks and struggle to break free. The grip on his neck burns like fire, and it takes an immense effort for Ivanov to turn his head to look at the assailant. It’s just the shape of its silhouette that resembles a human being. The creature has no face, no details. Under the clear and translucent skin, the scientist can see a net of capillaries coming to life, expanding rapidly as a fractal. The flat surface of the head seems to sink in some places, while other parts emerge in relief to form the outline of a face that vaguely resembles his own.
“Run!”, cries Ivanov. His hoarse voice sounds more like a snarl due to the pressure exerted by the monster. The Russian scientist raises his arm. In his hand he is holding the bomb on which he stuck the biggest lump of explosive. In a desperate gesture he throws the vial to the window at the right of the door. The explosion is deafening and the window crumbles throwing glass shrapnel into the corridor. The shock wave devastates the rest of the lab, prompting Moore to the ground, along with the creature and Ivanov.
“Get away!”, the Russian yells. He kicks himself free of the grip on his neck. The being imitating a human body begins to get convulsed, a sign that the creature has lost control of the transformation process and is about to become an abomination out of control.
Moore doesn’t need to be repeated a third time. With her strength tripled by terror and despair, she rushes towards the just smashed window. She runs to the side that has not yet been reached by the flames, and she pushes one of the workbenches toward the wall. With a quick flick she grabs the backpack in which the Russian has stored the polystyrene container with some of the bombs. After having taken one, she throws the bag to the man, who stays beyond the mutating creature. Dreadful sounds come to life in the mass of translucent flesh, while the woman climbs awkwardly over the workbench and jumps over the opening, landing in the corridor.
A long trail of blood and gelatinous fluid runs on the floor. Moore has only a glimpse of something on her left, near the point where the creature broke the observation window. An amorphous mass of protoplasm lies in the corridor. Human limbs pop out, still wearing part of their protective suit. One leg is still shaken by rhythmic spasms. Moore leaves that nightmare behind and runs desperately back on the path previously taken.
Her only hope is the elevator.
Behind her, another explosion echoes loudly, followed by bestial screams that have nothing human.
The woman sprints in the hallway, silently praying that the way is clear.
Scattered on ground are the weapons left by the men attacked just a few minutes earlier, along with shreds of bio-hazard suits, dirty with blood and protoplasmic slime. The lift is just a few meters in front of her and fortunately it’s still open.
The woman runs towards the only possible escape way, and she is about halfway through when the doors begin to slide.
No, please, no!
Howls and terrifying sounds, like smashed walls, come from the lab that she has left behind. With a desperate leap she plunges into the cabin, just before the doors close. Her perception is somehow altered and, as she falls badly inside, she has the feeling that everything takes place too slowly.
Impact…
The feeling of the rough and hard floor, scratching her face…
Bones breaking…
Moore tries to get up again, grateful to heaven that the bomb that she’s holding with her right hand has not touched the floor, breaking on impact. She tries to ignore the pain sensations.
Where are the control buttons?
She sees them, and anguish come back to grab her.
The device is damaged and sunken into the wall. The button to reach the surface has been torn away, leaving a recess in its place, partially covered with bloody mucus. Someone or something has blocked the only exit to the outside.
A searing pain in her left hand, crushed under the chest…
The elevator is moving, and a terrible feeling sizes her when she looks up to the display at the top.
Fear…
Cold…
Pain…
The elevator has just started its descent towards the lower floors of the base.
Then everything becomes dark.
BOEING CRASH SITE
“…The remains were relatively few, considering the large number of passengers. Most of the bodies have been incinerated by the explosion when the plane crashed. We have loaded a portion onto the helicopter. For the rest we followed your orders: men have dug deep pits in which we have put the pieces, and what we found of their luggage. We burned everything to ashes, even if it was not too much. When the job was done, we covered the pit and leveled everything.”
Philip Redmond appears tired and somewhat far, while updating Ironside.
More than understandable…
Managing a situation like this in no time, working hard under the sun, in the Sahara Desert, would make anyone a rag…
“Good job, lieutenant. What about the remains of the airplane?”
“The same as above, we buried the smaller fragments, although… Excuse me, sir, but here the sand is like the sea water, the dunes are constantly moving. We can’t rule out that in the future they may come back to the surface. We removed and burned markings, but consider that it’s the job of a single day, and done quickly. I hope you understands if…”
Ironside nods, placing a hand on the shoulder of the young lieutenant. “Let’s hope that this won’t happen any time soon. It’s okay, for now. This is only a temporary measure. We will figure out how to manage the situation better when the waters have calmed down and when we receive the right support.”
The two men are close to one of three military trucks. A trio of soldiers are setting two ramps on the back, moving a small excavator on the truck’s bed.
Ironside looks at the scene, then turns back to lieutenant Redmond. “Did you notice anything strange in the men, lieutenant? Someone who looks… different? Or behaving in an unusual way?”
The other seems to think it over for a while, looking at Ironside quizzically. “No, I don’t think, sir. The day was not one of our best. I mean for all of us, of course. I wouldn’t wonder if someone feels nervous after he has shoveled sand and collected pieces of corpses all day long.”
Meanwhile the soldiers finish loading the excavator onto the truck. One of them closes the tailgate, fixing it with its hooks.
“Quite right, lieutenant”, Ironside agrees, turning a tired smile to the soldier. “Anyway, if you notice anything unusual, let me know immediately. When we go back to the base we all must take medical tests. We must be sure that no one is contaminated.”