Ahmed put the creature down quick. He tore the white-skinned monstrosity apart, ripping his throat wide open, beating him down with giant fists.
It was over before it started. Ahmed had barked, screamed out as he beat his chest, taunting and hoping and challenging all.
No other dared.
Satisfied, the creature that was Ahmed allowed them to feed on the fallen body.
It calmed them some.
Looking down now, Ahmed clicked his teeth. He grunted under his breath, his mouth opening, stretching ear to ear. Wider and wider, his thick skin began to rip, tearing like Velcro. Rows of shark-like teeth filled Ahmed’s mouth, some falling out as he grinded them. He was in obvious pleasure, a euphoric feeling overtaking the creature. A feeling like never before.
Still hunched over, Ahmed began to bounce on all fours, ape-like, a giant monster that had grown nearly a foot taller over the past twenty-six years. Now just under seven feet tall, Ahmed’s head was deformed, elongated. The bone grew underneath, hardening and pressing and causing constant pain. He would pick at his skin, attempting to pull away at what throbbed inside him, as did others. The skin was thick, though, and healed quickly.
Ahmed’s hands still resembled hands, but his feet were twisted and mangled, appearing more like those of a cloven beast. He stood on two legs primarily, something he shared with only his generation. The others, they preferred it less and less, a de-evolution in stature if you will. Perhaps the creatures were becoming less human, less advanced. Or were these new features beneficial to their survival?
Ahmed’s muscles were solid, his arms had grown longer, disproportionate to the rest of his body, much like his head. Most of the creatures looked the same, their arms dangling past their knees when on two feet, reaching far when on all fours.
Ahmed’s skin had reddened. Permanent scars from the blistering covered his entire body.
The first generation, the original survivors, shared this trait as well. In fact, nearly all of them appeared similar in most ways. Some suffered more deformities, but for the most part, the original test subjects looked the same.
Standing there, hunched over in the pale moonlight, Ahmed was a sight of horror. His appearance would cause even the most heroic warrior to tremble in fear.
Ahmed chattered his teeth, foam gathering at the corners of his enlarged mouth. His eyes were slanted, blinking down, but from an angle. The eyelids weren’t long enough, and even while asleep, Ahmed looked awake. His eyes, which once were a deep brown hue, lacked pigment. Ahmed’s eyes were white, as if rolled back into his head.
He stared, vacant and empty, at the village below.
The time was soon.
Ahmed placed his right paw on a nearby boulder, ceasing his erratic movement for a moment. Instead, he relaxed, halting all motion, touching the rock intently. Ahmed could feel the pulse. He felt the thump; it was their hearts beating, their blood pumping through their veins.
Dozens of the monstrosities lurked behind the creature that was Ahmed. They remained in the shadows, crowded and looking out, sniffing the air. They could sense Ahmed’s angst. They, too, could feel the villagers. These creatures, they knew why they were here. They felt that primal urge, the urge that drove them beyond all else, overtake them. The creatures could hardly control themselves.
The creatures snarled.
They grunted.
They frothed and foamed.
The beasts scratched at their chests, ripping out chunks of flesh with their long claws.
They loved the pain.
They swarmed, the creatures nearly piled atop one another, the motion of a single wave of churning death. Waiting. Hoping.
Ahmed remained calm, though. He continued to wait, to test their patience. He felt, for some reason, patience would be needed soon. He waited and waited, the motion of swirling wrath behind him growing into a fury. Ahmed allowed his mind to wander, to think of things not known to this planet, to explore the cosmos, to understand more than any man was capable of.
He snapped back, glaring down to the village. Ahmed’s feelings were overpowering, and more important, shifting — becoming pure rage. Ahmed had known of the intruders presence, was curious even. But the moment they entered the cave, it was over for the humans.
But how? Ahmed had wondered. How did these humans know where they were?
But the answer came as quickly as the question, and Ahmed knew it was a villager who had pointed out their location, who had sent the outsiders into their lair.
This enraged Ahmed. That lost connection came back, though it was brief. He remembered them, remembered the village, the streets, the people. He had been one of them. He had fought for them. Now, he felt utter betrayal. He held them all responsible.
They had no clue what wrath was coming their way.
Finally, it was time.
“Grak-la,” Ahmed spoke, the sound guttural.
The dozen warriors, once faithful Mujahideen warriors and now something different, pulled near.
They were near frenzied now.
They beat their chests.
They panted, jumping up and down, snarling and shoving one another.
“Grak-a-la,” Ahmed commanded.
Dozens of the creatures poured out of the cave’s entrance. Dozens more followed.
All in all, ninety adult males stood in a semi-circle outside the cave. They had calmed, and did not dare obstruct Ahmed’s view.
More time passed, Ahmed silent. Perhaps testing their patience, perhaps pondering something, they did not know. But finally, the creature that was Ahmed spoke.
“Jin-ta. Jin-ta-la,” Ahmed ordered.
Take half. No more, no less.
The creatures scoured down the cliff in a frenzy, sprinting toward the village with Ahmed watching on.
84
They bound from the hills, running like raging maniacs. Some strode on two legs, bounding from rock and down the trail. Others raced on all fours, like animals, ravenous creatures of the night.
The group hit the valley floor at full sprint, a mere few hundred meters from their catch.
They crossed the open land, the darkness covering their charge, their screams echoing in the still night.
They chomped and frothed.
The grinded their teeth, their sharp claws digging into the desert sand.
The roar was like a fast approaching storm. The few who were still outside actually looked up, seeing only clear skies. By the time the mob entered the village, they had no time to prepare.
As if it would have helped.
The creatures, the mutations of wrath, shot from the shadows, ran up dirt paths, jumped from building to building.
They kicked open doors, leapt through open windows.
They stole the silence of the night, their grunts, their groans of ecstasy shadowed by the sounds of screams.
Men, women.
Children.
They slashed, they bit.
Some used blunt objects, others merely beat their prey to death.
Some began feasting, while others tugged, ripping bodies apart.
A handful dragged them away screaming, being pulled along the desert floor, toward the cave.
They took half. No more, no less.
They didn’t dare cross what once was Ahmed, who stood at the cave’s entrance, many of the others standing behind — watching the carnage and enjoying every bit of it.
85
The rap at the door woke Reynolds from his slumber. He had slept maybe two or three hours at best. The Marine rose, greeting a woman at his door with groggy eyes. He instantly recognized the woman. It was Viki, one of the techs working for Elizabeth.