The entire section of the corridor is quickly filled.
“Seal the gate!”, Macready shouts.
Moore is frozen with horror, the Russian watches the scene with an impassive face.
“Close it now, damn it!”
Ivanov seems frozen too.
Moore come forward, pushing the Russian aside then firmly pushing the close button.
The time seems to freeze.
The door starts to close.
The monster is quickly approaching.
Macready runs, aiming with the assault rifle at the retinal scanner.
The gate is half closed.
A long tentacle darts toward the Major, barely missing his ankle.
The man open fire, a first set of three shots miss the target.
Shit…
A second burst, whose noise is almost covered by the cacophony of sounds of the abomination behind him, hits the retinal reader, smashing it to pieces.
The tailgate is three quarters closed when Macready plunges, landing hard on the ground over the threshold.
Ivanov seems to awaken and he supports Moore, trying to push the movement of the gate to accelerate its closure. However, the mechanism proceeds with its usual slow pace, unmindful of their efforts.
The bulk of the creature is huge and now incumbent upon them, with only a couple of centimeters missing to the complete closure of the door.
The sickening stench becomes more intense and hits them with a heavy wind, since the body completely fills the hallway and acts as a piston. A tentacle darts for a moment over the threshold before withdrawing, the creature is now very close. Hell itself is ready to fall on the three survivors when the passage finally closes with a metallic thud. Less than a second later the creature hits the other side, making a loud crash followed by a furious and brutal growl.
Macready has already stood up. “Let’s go, there’s not even a second to waste!”
The three rush quickly up the concrete stairways. The sound of their steps, amplified in the closed environment, is echoed by heavy blows against the three armored doors.
“Will they resist?”, the woman asks out of breath.
“I don’t know, but it’s enough for me if they resist for a few minutes. We set the charges to create a gap between the basements. The latest detonation will trigger the supply of explosives in the armory. The fire will spread everywhere. That son of a bitch will burn in the hell where it came from.”
ALGERIAN DESERT
“Lieutenant Samuel Bishop, sir, I have a license as a helicopter pilot.”
“God bless you, soldier. Make sure you keep flying this thing, we all have a score to settle.”
Once the helicopter has stabilized, Ironside frees himself from the slings and headphones and heads toward the back of the aircraft, poking rapidly among the crammed boxes at the bottom. Some are scattered and have opened.
An excited voice emerges from the intercom. “Brimley here. I recovered McKinnock. He’s heavily wounded. I’m rushing to the base.”
Ironside, helped by one of the marines on board of the helicopter, reaches the right-side door. The two men scroll it sideways. The impact with the cold night air accelerated by the blades of the main rotor is one shock, but nothing compared to the sight of what is happening about thirty meters below, on the ground under the helicopter.
The two vehicles are lying sprawled on a side. Brody was thrown out a few meters away. Only the top half of his body is visible. At the waist it fades into a long stump sprawling that snakes deep into the roof of the truck. From the left door of the vehicle they can see a bloody pulp, vaguely reminiscent a sea anemone. Long tentacles explore the environment around in search of organic parts to assimilate.
Ironside watches helplessly a shapeless mass that crawls out from what remains of the truck driven by McKinnock. In the bloody structure are visible the soldiers who were in the truck. Some of them are still conscious and their desperate shouts, muffled by the noise of the helicopter rotor, reach the ears of John Ironside.
The creature escaping from the truck crawls on the ground towards the huge anemone which occupies the remains of the other truck. Long tentacles emerge from the two bodies, clutching each other and binding, so that the creatures begin to join into one. One of the soldiers, partially entangled in the tentacles, struggles in vain. His hysterical shouts seem the verses of an animal, as he is pushed into the beating heart of the huge abomination.
“Bishop, take the helicopter on the perpendicular and keep it in position”, Ironside shouts trying to overwhelm the noise of the engine. Meanwhile, the soldiers have dragged a heavy fuel barrel towards the opening.
The pilot responds promptly, taking the helicopter right above the creature.
Ironside holds himself with the left hand to a safety bar. The sight is terrifying. The creature seems to have doubled its size in a short time. The main body of what appears as a monstrous anemone now has a diameter of over five meters. A monstrous mouth opens at its core, a dark red hole, covered with white and curved tusks. A gurgling roar, louder than the noise of the helicopter engine, reaches the survivors.
Ironside pushes the can to the edge, when the aircraft is shaken. He strengthens his grip on the safety bar, knuckles whitened by the effort.
“Bishop, hold the position!”
USA BASE CNT222
With a final sprint, the three survivors climb the final ladder, finally emerging on the surface inside the hangar.
Without further ado, Macready seals the last opening, then they rush through the hangar. The Major walks to the gate that gives access to the short tunnel that ends with the elevator.
Moore and Ivanov follow him closely, shivering, and not only from the impact of the cold desert air.
The gate is open.
Macready is the first to reach it and to take a look in the tunnel lit by the cold light of fluorescent tubes.
Voices.
“Why the hell no one answers? And where is the sentry? This whole fucking thing starts to get on my nerves…”
Jeff Michigan and Will Bailey are standing in front of the elevator door. A blink signals the arrival at the floor.
“Get away from there! Now!”, Macready shouts.
The scream takes the two marines off guard. They turn in unison towards him as the elevator doors slide sideways.
A noise like that of a whole brood of rattlesnakes emerges from the opening.
Bailey reacts instinctively and jumps aside, narrowly avoiding a dark tentacle whipping the air just above his head. Jeff is not that lucky. Another tentacle wraps on his left leg, tugging him back with such violence that the soldier falls back, violently hitting the ground with his face and getting a deep laceration on his right cheekbone.
Jeff is rapidly pulled toward the interior of the elevator, from which come chaotic sounds. Distressing laments and unidentifiable noises that express a feeling of savage brutality.
The man shouts as one of his legs is quickly sucked into the protoplasmic mass. The marine kicks desperately with the other leg but new tentacles sprout from the mucilaginous body that occupies a corner of the cabin, trapping him.
“Shit! Help me, Will! Help me!”, Jeff shouts, with voice made acute by terror and pain.
Bailey rushes to grab his friend’s arms, pulling him back with all his strength. In the general chaos he can’t hear the voice of Macready, who tries to call him back, aware that there is nothing they can do to help Michigan. This one keeps screaming as the creature makes its way into his flesh, breaking bones and tearing tissue and muscle fibers, tearing him literally to pieces. His voice takes on tones even more acute and guttural, then tentacles as thick as a finger sprout out of his chest, tearing his suit.