The ground was clammy and quivered with every step. It was hard for Elena not to imagine stepping on cold, dead flesh. Ghostly mist flowed over toecaps of her boots, making it near impossible to see the deadly trip roots Guy had warned of.
That was the least of her worries.
The field of Yateveo plants felt like an alien world. She recalled walking through her grandmother’s garden as a child and standing in the middle of a field of sunflower plants that had grown taller than she was. The enormous yellow disks had been larger than her head, giving them an eerie appearance to an over-imaginative young girl. They all faced the same direction, as if staring at something with their yellow cycloptic gazes.
The Yateveo plants were far worse. Buds nearly the size of a grown man sprouted from bristly stalks, speckled and mottled in shades of green and brown. Broad leaves made a decorative collar for the buds, which hung limp like giant heads of sleeping sentinels. The stalks branched off in multiple stems, most lined with brightly colored tentacles tipped with sticky mucilage that glimmered in the dim light.
A thick curtain of fine dust hung in the air, tainting everything in yellow hues. She knew it was the spore particles Guy had spoken of. She carefully glanced back at Nathan and tapped her filter mask. He shook his head to the unasked question. He had insisted she keep the mask, despite her protests. He chose to tie rags around his face like Charlie Foxtrot and Hayes. His eyes revealed the terror that belied his chivalrous gesture. He looked like a man about to succumb to a severe anxiety attack.
She turned around just in time to see Guy hold up a warning hand. He pointed to the ground and carefully stepped over something. Blackwell followed suit, and well as Michael. Elena stared down as she approached.
The upturned root was barely visible in the thick fog that carpeted the ground. It looked like an overturned centipede, with feelers wriggling like thousands of legs. Her face twisted as she took a wary step over it and leaned back to steady Hayes, who was also supported by Nathan. Together they helped Hayes get past undetected. Charlie Foxtrot negotiated the trap with ease before turning to Damon.
He was stumbling backward.
His back to the others, he peered into the foggy backdrop with his rifle raised. Charlie Foxtrot hissed a warning that fell on deaf ears as he appeared completely focused on surveying some unseen threat even as he backed into another one.
He paused, one foot hovering above the swaying feelers. As Nathan and Charlie Foxtrot stepped up to try to alert him, Elena finally caught sight of what he had been looking at.
Nothing.
His head swiveled around as if he was surrounded by multiple assailants, and his rifle fanned back and forth as well. His yells were muffled by the respirator, but his agitation was made clear by his spasmodic motions. Elena’s breath caught when she saw the problem. A tiny crack was clearly visible in the thermoplastic face shield near the silicone facepiece, probably from the damage it had taken from the many bumps and falls. There was no telling how the poisoned air afflicted him.
He whirled around, eyes rolled back and mouth agape. Bubbles of foam flecked his lips. He snatched the respirator off just before a torrent of creamy vomit erupted from his mouth and fanned across the air. His arms flailed when he staggered backward, gurgling. Charlie Foxtrot cursed and hefted her rifle when his foot stomped on the protruding root.
The world went insane.
The nearest Yateveo bud opened in a spray of green ichor. Petals unfurled like shriveled lips, and serpentine tentacles whipped from the center of a gaping cavity lined with thorny fangs. They wrapped around Damon with nightmarish speed, snatched him off his feet and yanked him into the gaping maw. The mouth snapped shut on his flailing body, the stalk grotesquely disproportionate as he was devoured.
“Oh my God!” Hayes screamed.
Charlie Foxtrot yelled, opening fire. The sounds exploded, snapping everyone out of their shocked stupor. Her arm muscles quivered as she fanned her barrage in a semicircle, ripping into other Yateveo plants as they snapped to life. Milky fluid spattered when the rounds tore them apart. Elena and the others quickly followed suit. The air rang with the deafening sound of gunfire. The attacking plants recoiled as they were struck, heavy buds thudding against the ground, still snapping in ravenous attempts to snare their prey.
Guy’s voice carried over the din. “Go for the door!”
“I’m out of ammo.” Nathan seized Elena by the sleeve. “C’mon.”
They dashed forward, followed by a bellowing Hayes. His erratic shooting managed to keep the nearest Yateveo from snapping them up as they passed. Thick, sticky tentacles swung to and fro, snapping like whips. A sound emitted from them, the rumble of a million agitated hornets. Yateveo heads emerged from the fog like prehistoric monsters, exploding as they were mercilessly struck by Guy and Blackwell’s coordinated bursts. Charlie Foxtrot belted out a furious scream just before a grenade explosion bloomed in the murk behind them.
The door drew closer, black and glistening. An entire line of Yateveo plants blocked the way. Michael roared and threw up a hand. Somehow the plants exploded, as if struck by an invisible shockwave. Elena didn’t question it. The world was insane, and more insanity meant nothing. Sticky white fluid rained down as they cleared the ruined field of Yateveo, ducking under injured feelers and dashing toward the door. Slamming against the foreign alloy, they banged and kicked at the surface, yelling incoherent threats and pleas.
As if in response, the door slid open with a hiss and huff of expelled steam.
No one moved. The doorway was a mouth of yawning darkness, revealing nothing of what lay within. They stared as if hypnotized, as if the comprehension of a working door had somehow left them dumbfounded.
Guy pushed his way past. “What did you expect? Let’s go.”
He stepped forward and was swallowed by the gloom. A faint light bloomed. He held a flare upright, yet was barely visible even though he appeared to be only a few feet away. The darkness around him was thick, as though it coagulated in rebellion against the light. He beckoned with his free hand, his voice ghostly, muffled as though by a wall of water.
“Come on.”
Elena exchanged glances with the others. Even Blackwell appeared hesitant. He licked his lips and nodded as if reassuring himself. When he stepped into the doorway, his figure flickered as though crossing some invisible barrier. Michael quickly followed, not even hesitating as he went inside.
“Hell with it.” Hayes’ voice was thick, dribbled through swollen lips. His face was a swollen mass of battered meat, nearly unrecognizable. “Hell with it. What could be worse than this?” He followed Blackwell, barely pausing before crossing the barrier in a barely visible glimmer of movement.
“You fools gonna move, or just wait for something else to kill you?” Charlie Foxtrot’s voice was irritable from behind them. “No point losing your nerve now. Move it.”
Nathan shrugged. “She’s right.”
He took a deep breath then stepped forward. Elena followed right behind him. There was a sensation of a shivery shill, as if passing through a thin layer of invisible liquid. Then she was inside, surrounded by gloom and harsh breathing. Charlie Foxtrot was the last inside. As soon as she entered, the door snapped shut, enveloping them in immediate darkness.
Everyone automatically huddled around Guy and his upraised flare. Visibility was near non-existent, but the air was sterile, the sounds echoing in a metallic manner.
“Where are we?”
Fluorescent green illuminated Charlie Foxtrot’s face when she snapped open a lightstick. “I’m guessing the gates of Hell.”