He knew these Morg were hard to hurt, let alone kill. But even if their bodies were like iron, and internal organs so protected as to be near impenetrable, if they had eyes, then it meant the brain was close by.
Alex closed his own eyes, concentrating on shutting everything else out, and soon images began to form — in the rear the craft several of the creatures were moving about. He couldn’t hope to fight and win against them all. Even one would slow him down and then allow the rest to swarm him.
He also detected a human presence, but just one. Which one? Who’d lived and who’d died? Or did one woman escape. He concentrated — no — the other was still there. Her presence still lingered along with the ghost of her agonized demise.
He needed to get inside and draw them away. He would have only seconds. Alex opened his eyes and looked along the outside of the craft and saw that the door was wedged shut, and there was debris scattered about. He saw what he needed. The other vital ingredient was luck — that would either be with him or against him. If not, this was where it all ended.
Alex began to coil his muscles. His heart rate rose, enormously, beating faster than any normal man’s. He centered himself, concentrating on his core and drawing in strength, focusing on the task ahead, seeing in his mind how he wanted it to play out.
Time was the one factor he could buy no more of — or cheat or steal or beat back. This worked the first time, or it didn’t work at all. He drew in a lung full of breath, and let his mind work the distance and speed he would need to close the gap. He lowered his head for a few seconds, saying a small prayer.
An image of Aimee and Joshua formed in his mind, lying on soft, green grass in the warm sunshine, smiling, safe. That was all that mattered. She nodded to him, and Joshua tilted his head, his gaze direct and his small cherubic lips moving with words: Kill them all.
Alex exploded forward.
Around him, time lagged. One of the flying insectoid creatures drifted by in slow motion, and got pulled slightly off course by the eddy he created in the air. The slime beneath his feet was kicked up, but he was long gone before it even fell back to the earth.
He was traveling so fast, he had become a bullet train hurtling toward his destination that was the makeshift door wedged into the broken hatch opening. Just before he arrived, Alex engaged his shield, held it up and struck the metal panel like a battering ram. His mass, momentum, and force all brought to bear on the door, and he exploded the metal sheet from the opening, blowing it into the cabin and knocking over one of the creatures just inside.
I’m in. Alex only had fractions of seconds to take everything in — three monstrous Morg, one now down, and one woman huddled to the rear who immediately came upright at seeing him.
In one smooth motion, he snatched up a metal pole from among the debris, sighted one of the huge creatures glaring at him, and launched it javelin style. It hit dead center between the clusters of glassy black eyes, making a crunching sound as it penetrated the chitinous shell-like skin.
He yelled for the woman to stay down, as there came an unearthly shriek from one of the Morg — he had their attention.
Alex turned and ran.
Morag was paralyzed in disbelief as the makeshift door was blown inwards by the impact. The creature that had grabbed her was struck by the edge of the door and knocked back to the rear of the bay area. The journalist stayed kneeling, mouth hanging open as her already strained nerves struggled with the new shocks.
In the broken doorway, framed within the furiously swirling mist, was one of the HAWCs. He stood, one foot forward, fists balled, and head lowered. Even though he was more than a head smaller than the monstrous beasts in the cabin, the raw energy almost crackled around him and made the creatures back up a step.
She went to crawl toward him.
“Stay there!”
The roar rooted her to the spot, but she recognized the voice — Alex Hunter — she almost cried as relief surged through her.
The HAWC leader disengaged his shield, and she could see the muscles bunch in his shoulders beneath his suit. But then instead of charging into battle, he did the opposite of what she hoped for — he turned and ran.
“Nooo,” she screamed, getting to her knees.
The remaining creature then seemed to overcome its surprise, and charged after him. She was left alone with the dead Morg with the long spike embedded in its horrifying face, and the Mitch-thing that had been knocked down by the door when Alex had burst in, and now with the side of its head dented.
She licked dry lips. There was silence, and she slowly turned, hearing a viscous popping and sliding from behind her. The fragment of asteroid had sent out long tendrils and they lovingly touched on the two downed Morg. They quickly gave up on the dead one, but began to work furiously on the Mitch one. The creature jerked.
Oh god. Morag’s eyes widened as she watched the Mitch-Morg sit up, the revolting tendrils touching, penetrating, and working on the area of his head that was damaged where the door had struck him. The Mitch-Morg got to its feet, leaning over the fragment as the tendrils drew away with the softest of sticky caresses. It then turned its alien face toward her.
Stupid. I should have run when I had the chance. She looked at the pile of slime-soaked protective clothing that had once been Anne. Gloops of muck still pulsed from the holes in the suit. The mess seemed to slide by itself, moving like a school of giant slugs.
The Mitch-Morg began to move toward her, and she held up the small piece of broken bone. It was every nightmare she had had as a little girl in the dark with her sheets pulled up over her head. These were monsters from the most feverish of bad dreams. The bone shook in her hands.
No, please, no. Morag started weep. She looked down momentarily at the sharp tipped bone, knowing it would be useless against the thing, and then thinking it might be better if she turned it on herself. I have seconds to decide.
She did.
No. Fuck it, I’ll fight. She held it up, sharp end pointed at the monstrosity as it came at her.
Alex sprinted harder and faster than he ever had in his life. The Morg were unnaturally fast, but the crowded sludge forest was becoming difficult to navigate, and their bodies would have had trouble wedging between some of the slime boughs.
He darted in and out for several minutes, accelerating as he went, and then made a big loop back to the Orlando. He only hoped Morag was still there when he returned — there was no time to mount a search if she had sprinted off into the jungle miasma.
He increased his speed for another few moments and then began to slow on his approach to the shuttle. There was nothing following him, however he could sense life forms inside. But it was a confused clump of signals — the buzzing insect like thrum in his head began to increase, whiting out his senses.
He came to the opening in the skin of the craft and never slowed down.
A missile flew in at the Morg like a huge cannonball. The collision was enormous in the small bay area of the shuttle and Morag jumped, frog-like, to get out of the way as the huge bodies came together with a thump of flesh, bone, and armor plating.
She tried to make herself small, and kept her arms up for protection. She was in disbelief at the sheer ferocity of the attack, not just of the bestial Morg creature that had once been a human being, but by Alex Hunter, as he punched, kicked, and rained blows upon the thing with fist, boot, and shield.