“I don’t know, Ralph, I haven’t the faintest idea about what that thing can do. I guess that if it was hidden in the water we should notice some movement. Let’s go ahead and keep our eyes wide open.”
“I am more and more convinced that this place is a fucking trap”, Ralph grumbles. His strained jaw emphasizes the muscles close to the temples. “There is no trace of Seagull. He can’t be vanished in such a way…”
Jennings throws another flare on the path ahead of them, lighting up another stretch of the gallery. The three go ahead stacked, because the path is too narrow to allow passage of two persons side by side. Stu looks at the placid waters on one side of the passage, careful to note the slightest ripple.
Nothing at all, the group keeps walking.
Further away the path fades out into the darkness, splitting from the small pond underground and proceeding with a slight slope. The silence is total, just broken by the rustle of the uniforms and the sound of their footsteps muffled by the sand.
“Holy shit, where the hell has Seagull gone?”, Stu asks in a whisper.
No one answers.
Jennings lights a third flare, and throws it forward.
The soldier freezes instantly, pointing his weapon and crouching forward.
The three men glimpse a silhouette, a barely visible ghost at the edge of the halo produced by the flickering light of the flare.
Jennings is quick to light another flare, tossing it with more strength. This time the burning tube lands far away, better illuminating the area.
A man is now clearly visible in the red flickering light.
He is completely naked, showing his back to them.
Ralph and Jennings aim their weapons and torches moving a few steps. Stu follows them keeping an eye in the direction from which they came.
The three stop a dozen meters from the man. Now that the distance is shorter they can see more details and realize that this is an elderly. The long white hair reach down to touch his back, between his shoulder blades. The skin is shiny with sweat and, in the dancing light of the flare, it seems to show a glimpse of the underlying muscles.
Jennings swallows, even though his mouth is completely dry. He has recognized without any doubt the hostage seen in the video found earlier.
Almost as if sensing his thoughts, the man turns around, very slowly.
The survivor of the crash of the Boeing has a bewildered appearance and looks in amazement at the sight of the three soldiers. His gaze appears confused, lost, and his body trembles visibly. He raises a hand pointing to the trio of marines. “You are…”
The man sees only now his shaky arm. He bows slowly his head as if realizing only now that his whole body is completely naked. The old looks again at the marines, moving an uncertain step toward them. “Please help me… What am I doing here? I was on a plane… There was my wife too and… Something happened… I can’t…”
The survivor brings his hands to his temples, lowering his head. His voice is uncertain. “I… I can’t remember… So much confusion… What am I doing here?”
The man looks back at the three soldiers a few meters in front of him. “Who are you? Where are we? Help me… I’m cold…”
The three look at him stunned, motionless, doubters. Jennings and Stu have seen that old man collapsing to the ground with the skull smashed with a rifle, and then transforming into a monstrous being. Along with Ralph they have seen with their very eyes something similar happening to their unfortunate fellow Black, and yet…
Yet in front of them there is an old man, an old man who trembles, is uncertain and talks like any human being would do in his situation.
A stream of thoughts run through the mind of Jennings.
Just an old man…
Stay sharp and focused, there is something wrong…
Defenseless…
Shit, where’s Seagull?
The survivor moves one more step toward them. His skin now appears normal, and seems to have lost the translucency of a moment before.
There’s no need being afraid…
Where is the creature that has meandered in the desert to lead us down here?
Relax, everything is fine…
What has destroyed the drone?
Jennings makes an effort of will to escape the flood of extraneous thoughts that seem to distract him by trying to overlap his own thoughts. While keeping an eye on the man in front of him, he shakes his head to wake up from a numbness that is making its way into him. It has the feeling that the atmosphere is becoming overwhelming and somewhat hypnotic as the man approaches.
That’s not a man!
“Stop right there!”, he shouts to the figure before him. “Or I’m gonna open a hole right in your forehead.”
The man doesn’t stop. He brings his hands in front of his chest, palms facing the three soldiers, as if to say to take it easy, and he takes another small step.
With an almost automatic gesture, Jennings unlocks his rifle, again pointing his gun at the man, that is now less than ten meters away.
Stu takes a step back and casts a nervous glance behind him, where he thinks he has just heard a noise, a kind of lapping. The fingers of his left hand whiten in the grip with which he holds the incendiary grenade.
Oblivious to the threat, the old man takes another step toward the three marines. He doesn’t tremble anymore, and his tone of voice is different, letting out a growing anger. “Would you open fire against a naked and unarmed American citizen? Holy Christ, I served in the Marine Corps when your mother still used to wipe your ass. Show me respect, what the fuck!”
The shots exploded by Jennings, amplified by the underground cavities, make a roar. The three bullets raise little puffs of dust in front of the man’s feet. This one, however, doesn’t seem to notice them, and he doesn’t stop. With a single gesture he stretches his arms forward, snarling with rage, as if ready to pounce on the three men.
The next burst, fired by Ralph, draws three crimson stars in the man’s chest, which seems to lose his balance for a moment, then he recovers in place, standing.
The three look at the scene with growing terror. The elder’s gaze is still fixed on them, but despite having the appearances, it no longer has anything human. In that instant the foggy torpor that was pressing on their minds seems to dissipate, and the soldiers become fully aware that the being in front of them has just the shape of an old man, but somewhere, hidden in the recesses of that blank look, the endless depths of a dark and alien mind are hiding.
The blood stops flowing almost immediately from the wounds on the man’s chest, while with a sound like sucking, two of the bullets come out from the holes, falling to the ground.
Then the events begin to worsen.
A creepy sound comes out of the man. It’s something that the three have already heard. The noise of thousands of insect wings, united to that of crushed bones and other sounds on very low tones. Ralph and Jennings open fire against the man, digging dark red gashes on his chest, arms and legs.
The body in front of them is shaken by blows, it has spasms, but it doesn’t fall. With a crack of breaking branches, its joints dislocate. The man’s legs begin to lengthen, shortly turning his figure into that of a kind of clumsy wading bird.
“Retreat, retreat!”, Jennings shouts, while a sense of helplessness begins to undermine his audacity, seeing that the creature keeps coming in wider leaps. New deformed and monstrous appendages burst out of its trunk. The face of the man seems made of clay, while it deforms, until it ceases to exist, replaced by the aberrant shape of an unknown being, not of this world. A globular star-shaped head, sprawling, covered at the top by a thick forest of needle-like appendages, iridescent, swaying like following an invisible tide and lighting up rhythmically, emitting its own light.