“Yes, sir, I understand.”
Then Redmond turns to Ironside, looking him straight in the eye. “Sir, the men who came here from the helicopter crash site reported something strange. Major Macready isn’t here, and we can’t communicate with the base. What’s going on?”
Ironside seems to think for a moment, then he decides that that good guy doesn’t deserve a lie. “We’re dealing with something terribly dangerous, lieutenant. As for the base… I don’t know much more than you. At what point are the soldiers with the remaining preparations? The sooner we go back, the sooner we will have some answers.”
“The boys have almost finished with their job. We’ll be ready soon.”
USA BASE CNT222
The world comes slowly back to life, from the lethargy and darkness in which it faded out.
Where am I?
The woman struggles to retrieve some piece of lucidity and she begins slowly to remember the most recent events. She’s on the ground, curled up in a fetal position in a corner of the big elevator. Twinges of pain afflict her head, intermittently lightening up like a tribal drum with each beat of her heart.
Fleeting images flash in front of her mind’s eyes.
The laboratory tests…
Ivanov…
Vasquez!
The elevator stops, with an almost imperceptible shake. Moore gets up, while staying squatting. She’s still keeping tightly one of the bombs in her right hand and holds her breath, as the doors slide laterally at a rate that seems incredibly slow.
How long have I been unconscious?
She’s confused, like recovering from anesthesia. One of the two halves of the door is blocked at a third of the opening, with a crackling noise. The exterior of the cabin is dim, barely lit by the flickering light of a fluorescent tube that dangles from the ceiling. The feeling that something isn’t as it should be permeates the environment, infusing an unhealthy aura. A faint ticking is barely perceptible in the reigning silence.
Moore takes a step into the hall where the elevator opens, which was originally a replica of the one on the upper floor.
The signs of the devastation are clear. One of the walls is completely smashed, letting a glimpse of the adjoining room. On the walls are traces of blood and organic indistinct material. The scientist leans slowly close to the hole in the wall to look at what remains of the entertainment room beyond it. An old pinball lies sprawled on its side and on its broken glass the remains of a Flash Gordon sticker are still visible. One of its lights is still flashing intermittently, causing the ticking heard by the woman. A cyclone seems to have been unleashed in the room. Everything lies sprawled on the ground. The outer coating of one of the walls has been partially torn, as if something exploded inside. Large white pipes are visible, rudely exposed and split. Drops of water drip down into a small puddle that widens slowly on the floor.
No sign of life, no bodies.
The woman tries to recall Macready’s words.
What was on the middle floor, in addition to the entertainment room?
With a now sadly familiar hiss, the doors of the elevator close again, locking her on the floor.
A multitude of thoughts stir in the mind of the scientist. She must make a considerable effort to stay focused and keep a cool head.
She leans forward, moving slowly down the hall, being very careful not to make any noise and not to step on the glass fragments scattered on the ground.
The atmosphere is oppressive.
Shades, unnatural silence, dark corners in which she imagines all sorts of lurking monstrosities. And, most of all, the awareness that only a few minutes earlier, something terrifying was unleashed in that place.
Something that may still be there, seeking its preys, waiting for her somewhere in the dark.
With her senses alert, Moore moves down the hall, bent and careful not to lift her head too much, avoiding to show herself over the edge of the windows, fearing that something can notice her presence from the adjoining rooms.
Focused on the arduous task of moving slowly and bowing silently, she inadvertently leans her left hand on a wall. A throbbing dense pain draws her attention, and she bites her tongue not to scream.
The woman leans against the wall with her shoulder while watching her hand. It’s swollen, dirty, scratched and stained with dried blood. Three fingers look really bad. Two are obviously broken, and the first phalanx of the middle finger seems out of the articulation, bending the finger in an unnatural angle. The thumb-nail is torn up to half, sticking outside of the nail groove. She grits her teeth while with her right hand she presses on the finger, to flatten the nail on the translucent underlying skin, rich in nerve endings. After several painful attempts, the woman gives up, merely trying to keep the thumb folded in her palm.
Struggling to ignore the pain and forcing herself to forget the sense of disgust, Moore approaches a door that faces the corridor, just after the first corner. It’s in correspondence with the room where Ahmed was held upstairs. Moore reads the label next to the door, which shows the “Infirmary” words However, the window in the sliding door is mottled on the inside with splashes of blood. Gritting her teeth, the woman moves along the corridor to the next door. She remembers she has already been there. It’s the room in which, along with Ironside and Macready, she has met Ivanov. Only a few hours have gone by, but it seems almost another life. The scientist is about to get up to swipe her badge into the slot of the door lock when a gurgling sound comes from within, like a liquid suction, followed by the noise of a chair moving and something heavy falling on the floor.
There’s something in here…
The scientist freezes instantly, instinctively crouching. With an exasperated slowness she moves away again, crawling along the corridor. A little further the path turns right, as its upstairs twin.
She leans slowly over the corner, to make sure that the way is clear. Unlike other areas, this one is still intact.
Large windows run along the wall to her left. The inside of the walls are tarnished with condensation, and the room is barely lit by lines of red and blue LED lamps, whose light filters through a thick foliage.
The greenhouse…
Moore moves on, wondering if the creature may also assimilate and clone vegetable life forms.
A quick flicker of a shadow catches her attention. Moore looks up at the window along the long greenhouse room. There seems to be something that shakes on the ceiling. The misted glass doesn’t let her distinguish the details, but whatever it is, it gives the impression of having a large number of legs.
Get away from here…
Eager to get far away from the disaster area, from the room in which she felt the presence of something just moments earlier, and now also from the greenhouse, the scientist moves along the corridor heading to the section of the staff’s private rooms.
Maybe I’ll find some communication device…
She reaches the door at the end, eavesdropping and holding her breath as she listens. She can’t hear anything but the accelerated beating of her heart. No sound seems to come from within.
Holding in her right hand the explosive tube and the badge, Moore stretches her arm, sliding the key card in the reader. Nothing happens, while somewhere beyond the bend of the corridor she just walked through she hears a dull sound, like something banging against one of the doors from the inside.