Luka halted his sprint to the exit elevator and stared fearfully back along the corridor as the painfilled screams of his comrades drifted through. He had lingered too long. It was time to leave and let the soldiers already on their way deal with it. At least he wasn’t completely defenseless. He glanced at the alien weapon he had grabbed from Stanislav’s office. He had turned the dials until a tiny light came on, which he hoped indicated it was ready to fire. Eager to reach the exit elevator and get above ground, he was about to turn and run when he noticed movement at the far end of the corridor. It looked like someone was turning the lights off one by one. He then realized the darkness drawing nearer was a wall of Black the width and height of the corridor flowing towards him. Fighting back the fear that threatened to turn him into a trembling wreck, he raised the weapon and fired.
The green ball of light that shot from the barrel grew and gave Luka hope he might survive the encounter. His hope rapidly diminished when a hole formed in the Black just before the light ball struck, allowing the deadly missile to pass harmlessly through and strike the far wall in a shower of sparks that sent lumps of concrete skidding across the floor. Luka fired off another shot before he fled.
EV1L easily avoided the second shot and spurted forward.
Luka shot a glance behind and saw his fear reflected in the greasy Black almost upon him. His agonized screams echoed along the corridor when it latched onto his back and folded around him. He forced the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.
As soon as the truck pulled to a halt inside the compound, Verez and Jaroslav jumped out the back and roamed their weapons over the building and around the compound.
Zacharov rolled his eyes and climbed out of the cab at a more leisurely pace. On touching firm ground, he stretched and grabbed at his aching back. He was too old for this energetic excitement. In his younger days he had seen his fair share of action, kill or be killed and do as ordered however crazy and suicidal the command. It was a wonder any of them had survived. But that was far behind him, which was why he liked the Siberian guard post detail. Cushy and boring, just what he needed in his twilight years. He gazed out at the surrounding tundra. Desolate and miles from civilization, it wasn’t for everyone, but he liked it. It gave a man time to think, to reflect on life. He had even pondered writing a book. He had a few ideas, but, as yet, the notebook he had bought remained absent of words.
“We going in or staying here admiring the view?” asked Verez impatiently.
Zacharov sighed at the impatience and lack of respect shown by today’s youth as he headed for the entrance. When staring at the camera failed to release the electronic lock, he pulled a key card from his pocket and slipped it into the reader fixed to the frame. When the door buzzed, he pushed it open and stepped inside. The men followed him through.
Though Luka had informed him he and two others, one wounded, would be waiting here for them, Zacharov wasn’t unduly concerned by their absence.
Makar crossed to the elevator and pressed the call button. The doors slid open, and they piled inside.
As the doors closed, Zacharov glanced around at his men. “Though I’m not expecting us to be greeted by anything alien, something has happened to cause some fatalities. We have no idea what these scientists have been doing down here, but it’s a secret facility, so it’s likely to be nothing good. They have animals here that I assume were used for testing their experiments, which included primates, so maybe it’s one of these that was infected in some way and went crazy.”
“Zombified DNA-altered apes, cool!” said Verez, smiling. “It’ll be like playing a PlayStation shooter game taking them out.”
Zacharov shook his head in dismay. “I very much doubt they have any apes here and definitely none that have been zombified. Just stay sharp and don’t fire at anything until you’re certain it isn’t human. There are still, or was a short while ago, people alive down here.”
They focused on the doors with weapons raised when the elevator juddered to a halt and the doors slid open.
Verez and Jaroslav stepped out. Standing back-to-back, they aimed their weapons along the empty passageways.
Zacharov glanced along the corridor as he pulled out the map of the facility. He unfolded it and found their position.
Looking over his shoulder, Makar tapped a finger on the plan. “There’s the security office. As there’s no sign of those three scientists we were meant to meet up with, we could head there and look at the CCTV feeds to find out who or what is about and if anyone needs our help.”
Zacharov nodded. “Let’s do it, but we move slow and controlled.” He tapped Verez on the shoulder. “No shooting at shadows. Identify, appraise and shoot if required. That goes for the rest of you. If anyone shoots a scientist, they’ll suffer the consequences. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” They replied sharply in unison.
“Makar, you lead. Verez, you’re at the rear. I don’t want anything creeping up on us.”
“You can rely on me, sir.”
They moved along the corridor in an alert, tight group that almost looked professional and nearly made Zacharov proud. Checking each room as they went, they moved stealthily towards the security office.
Makar raised an arm. “Scientist, dead.”
Zacharov pushed through his men gawping at the corpse and knelt to examine it. Stripped of flesh, he could see some of the bones showed evidence of melting. His gaze scanned the area around the corpse for signs of scorching, but there were none.
Makar voiced his thoughts. “What could melt bone but leave no evidence of fire?”
“Acid!” stated Verez. “Maybe the creature responsible spits acid or something like that thing in the American Alien movie.”
“That alien didn’t spit acid, its blood was acid,” corrected Jaroslav. “And there’s no acid damage to the floor.
“Quiet, you lot,” ordered Zacharov, now convinced someone or something was in here killing people. “Stay alert.”
He nodded at Makar to lead. They stepped around the skeleton and headed along the corridor.
Makar turned a corner and stared along the dark corridor stretching out before him. At its end the light from a junction still with light revealed nothing obstructing the square of yellow tinted light between them and it. When Makar edged forward to let the others enter the dark passage, something crunched beneath his feet.
Taking a small flashlight from his pocket, Zacharov pushed forward and aimed it at the floor. The beam reflected off broken lightbulb shards.
“Someone, or something, broke them deliberately,” whispered Makar.
Frowning, Zacharov aimed the light along the passage. It was creepy as hell but seemed absent any menace. He glanced at Makar. “Move slow and cautious.” He turned to the others. “Heads on a swivel.”
His men nodded.
Each glass-crunching step amplified their unease as Makar led them forward.
About halfway along, Zacharov aimed his light at a section of the ceiling he had noticed was different from the rest. It was black. At first he thought a fire might have been responsible, but the straight edges at either end indicated otherwise. It was as if someone had fixed a long board as wide as the corridor to the ceiling. As he directed the light away, he thought he detected movement within the black and shifted it back. He gasped when the ceiling rippled. The warning he shouted when it dropped was quickly muffled by the rubbery black blanket that smothered them.
Men yelled in surprise and pushed hands at the Black to free themselves, but it stretched like tar and then flowed over them like treacle. They screamed when the burning started. Panicked gunfire erupted. Bullets punched holes in the Black and peppered the ceiling and walls. A line of bullets fired from Jaroslav’s weapon crept up Makar’s back, shattering his back bone and cutting short his pain and life when the bullets reached his head. The Black held Makar’s corpse upright as it enveloped him.