Richard approached the side turning and stared at the faint, green glow highlighting the wall from around the corner―an indication the monster hadn’t strayed far. Worried he wouldn’t survive long without a light and some sort of weapon, Richard sighed and entered the tunnel.
After a few cautious steps, Richard stopped and stared at the boot protruding from a mound of mustard-brown feces. A similar line of disgusting dollops stretched out in a row following the Slug Monster’s route, evidence it passed its waste on the move. A closer inspection revealed the foot was still inside and slowly being devoured by the small worms he had encountered a few moments ago. As Talbot was alive a moment ago, Richard guessed the military boot had to belong to Jenkins. Hoping to find the dead man’s weapon amongst the scraps of ejected clothing within the shit trail, Richard used a foot to hesitantly probe the disgusting mess and fought back the vomit that threatened to spew forth again, this time from the eye-watering stench his reluctant search threw up. When he failed to find the weapon, Richard suspected it probably fell into the pus pool when the man was dragged down the chute and was now lost forever.
Richard moved deeper into the passage, stopped at the corner and peered around the edge into the chamber the Slug Monster had made its home. From its position, he now knew the slug and the tentacles were joined. It hung upside down from tentacles latched onto the ceiling like a grotesque chandelier fashioned from a design straight out of Lovecraft’s weird imagination. The head of the thing didn’t vary much from the rest of its body, except for short tentacles that grew from around its mouth and eyes―thankfully, presently closed―and waved in the air in some macabre dance routine, twisting around and caressing each other. A ripple of flabby skin travelled the length of the monster’s bulky body with each breath it took and each exhale produced a wheezing, rumbling snort. The thing was asleep. The smell the creature reeked of reminded Richard of the one and only time he had gone fishing. His friend, who had convinced him what a great sport it was, had opened a container filled with wriggling maggots and shoved it under his nose. The foul stench that had invaded his nostrils then was a similar smell, albeit the stench that invaded them now was much stronger.
Richard’s eyes searched for Talbot―well, for the weapon mainly, but as the two were connected last time he saw them, he thought if he found one the other wouldn’t be far away, and Talbot would be easier to spot. However, there was no sign of either. Thinking the man might have been devoured as a pre-nap snack, Richard searched the ground around the monster for any evidence the man had been eaten or the weapon that may have slipped from his grasp. He again found no sign of either, and careful to time his movements to coincide with the Slug Monster’s snores to cover the sound, he took a few cautious steps nearer Sleeping Ugly and noticed Talbot’s boots poking out past the monster’s far side. A few more snore-timed steps brought the soldier into view. Talbot lay on the ground held in place by tentacles that entwined his body. With his eyes watching the hanging monstrosity in case it awoke, Richard moved closer and knelt beside Talbot. The man actually looked relieved to see him. It wasn’t an emotion Richard experienced very often, if ever. Richard gripped the butt of the rifle and pulled, but stopped when the tentacles squeezed the weapon and their victim tighter.
Talbot shook his head desperately as he struggled to draw another breath through his partially smothered nose and flicked his eyes at his feet. Deciphering the signal, Richard examined the man’s boots and noticed the knife strapped around one ankle. Though a tentacle was wrapped around the sheath, the handle was free. A gentle tug saw it transferred to his hand. Richard showed it to Talbot to let him know he had it, and then examined the three tentacles holding the weapon in place. He assumed, as soon as the blade started cutting, the monster would awake to find out the cause of the pain and viciously retaliate when it saw the human holding a knife stained with its blood. He would have to be super quick if he was going to cut through all three, grab the weapon and kill the monster before he became its next victim.
As Richard held the knife above the first tentacle, he wondered how tough they were and if the knife would be able to cut through them. As soon as he made the first cut he would be committed; there would be no second chance. Two of the worm-like tentacles were about two inches across and one about four. Sweat poured from his brow. His hands shook and fear of failure and his resulting painful death almost stopped him. The thought of wandering through the ship unarmed and in darkness persuaded him he had to take the risk. The knife moved closer until it was almost touching the thing’s flesh before Richard jerked it away. He looked at Talbot, who stared at him pleadingly to do it. Certain the monster would be upon him before he had cut through the first ghastly limb, Richard stood and backed away. Self-preservation forced him to alter his plan. A few steps positioned him in front of the monster’s grotesque rippling body. Hardly believing what he was about to do and before fear changed his mind, he raised the knife clutched in both hands, plunged it into the monster’s flesh and dragged it quickly down its vile body.
The monster screeched and its eyes sprung open and looked at Richard as soon as the blade had pierced its flesh. When tentacles darted out to seize the attacker, they released their hold on the ceiling. When the monster flopped to the floor, its innards burst from the rip in its body with a loud, squishy, slurp wrapped in the foulest of stenches.
Blood, gore and all manner of foul excrement sprayed Richard as he dodged away and slashed at the tentacles groping for him. When he was tripped to the ground by the mass of slithering, slippery innards beneath his feet, tentacles grabbed his legs and hoisted him into the air.
The Slug Monster, that seemed unaffected by the loss of some of its internal organs, climbed upright, turned its many eyes upon its attacker and bared rows of sharp, chomping teeth. The tentacles around its mouth danced frantically as they stretched towards the prey.
Though more terrified than he had ever been before, Richard stared at the vicious mouth the tentacles planned to feed him into and bent his body to bring the knife in range of the nearest tentacle gripping him. He slashed out, but only managed to scratch it. Another tentacle snatched the knife from his hand and threw it across the room. Dangled above the gaping mouth eager to receive its attacker, Richard was horror-stricken by the Slug-Monster’s obvious intention. He placed a hand either side its jaw and grabbed hold of two small tentacles, which protested vigorously and tried to shake his grip free. Other smaller tentacles wrapped around his wrists and pulled. The ones he refused to let go of snapped. Thick, white, goo oozed from the stumps he dropped into the monster’s gaping maw.