I leaned back against the steel entrance of The Floor. The S.O.S lockdown affected every entrance; it helped maintain order if chaos ever ensued. Right now, chaos ensued, and it kept me from helping any of my comrades-in-arms. The Comm-link was silent; I doubted there were any teams stable enough to communicate.
I could smell the charred corpse of that fucking animal nearby. I took a lot of satisfaction out of killing the thing.
I don’t know what’s happening outside the lab. The Sentinel Project was supposed to be a bastion against the fetor that fed on humanity. Huddled against a reinforced steel door, at that point, I figured we weren’t worth shit.
Sitting there, listening to the sounds of a facility in chaos, I couldn’t help feeling like a cliché. I hate cliches. They’re catechisms of the mundane. They’re easy on the ears compared to the reality of what they describe. But so many seem to fit right now: I opened Pandora’s Box; pride came before the fall; curiosity killed the cat. Ugh…
I couldn’t be another helpless bystander. We trained for this, damnit! I wouldn’t be another goddamn cliche!
My security clearance wasn’t enough to open the bay doors but we were given a contingency: the vents. I shook my head. The goddamn vents. Like some sort of Die-Hard wannabe. Jake Peralta would be proud.
Crawling through the stainless steel maze was easier than I imagined. If anyone ever bothered to look, most vents aren’t actually people-friendly; ours were. Ours were designed for this kind of half-baked exit strategy. I laughed to myself as I elbowed my way towards the outside of the facility. Hunter, you get to live out a real-life action movie. It would’ve been funnier if not for the fact that my comrades, my friends, were undoubtedly being slaughtered by what’s assumed to be an army of human-hunters.
The ducts had maps bolted into each intersection. It didn’t take long for me to reach an exterior cover. After a few hefty kicks, the grating gave way, allowing me an easy exit to the outside world.
I rested against the exterior wall, panting. The perimeter of the facility was what you’d expect: link fence and barbed wire, with outposts stationed every fifty meters for observation. We wanted an electrified fence, but the need for a low profile kept the motion from being ratified. I doubt it would’ve been much use, at this point.
I could hear the screams of our perimeter teams. The sounds came from every direction. There were four men posted to every outpost, and I felt as if every single man on post was giving voice to their final moments in a very enthusiastic manner. I grimaced in sorrow and no small amount of anger.
These FUCKING animals. These goddamn, wonderbread, pasty-faced, shark-mouthed suns’a’bitches. I was inflamed with hatred. I started sprinting.
The closest outpost was 30 meters to my right. I booked it, hoping against hope that I’d find some form of life remaining; something; something I could save in order to mitigate what I thought to be my greatest sin.
There was a body laying at the entrance of the outpost. It was Dave. Last time I saw him he was full of sarcasm and exultations about his wife and new baby daughter.
This time, he was missing his right arm, his left leg, and a sizable amount of flesh from his face and neck. I growled in anger and, leveling my sidearm, began ascending the spiraling stairs of the outpost. I needed a view. I needed to see what the situation was. At the very least, I needed to get to the outpost’s Comm-link.
I came abreast of the final landing and fell into a stealth-crouch. Keeping my weapon trained on my 12, I rounded the last corner. As half-expected, there was one of them enthusiastically feeding on one of my comrades. It seemed totally engrossed in its feast.
I steadied my firearm and breathed out. On my exhale I began plugging rounds into the bastard creature. Two sank into its back as it spun, exposing a very angry face, almost identical to the creature from The Floor. I didn’t blink, but I screamed as I emptied my magazine.
Three rounds to the chest.
It stood and leapt at me.
Two rounds to the face, the head.
It crumpled halfway to me, apparently deceased.
I kept firing until my firearm gave the *click click* of an empty mag. I spat on the corpse. Disgusting. I refilled my mag from the body of my former colleague and took a minute to get my head straight. I was trembling; partially from nerves, partially from pure unadulterated hatred. These creatures were the whole reason why I lived for the Project.
Creatures; all this time we assumed it was one. It appeared there were many.
I reached the Comm and attempted a communiqué: I used the Morse indicator. Dash Dash Dash; O, for open; asking anybody near a Comm to respond and give an update.
Dash Dash Dash
C’mon guys…
Dash Dash Dash
Fuck, someone…
Dash Dash Dash
For fuck sakes are we dead in the water…?
Dash Dash Dash…
Dash Dash Dash…
Dash Dash Da-
“Outpost Beta! Responding to com-request! Is there someone out there?! Over!”
I giggled in relief. I wasn’t alone!; we weren’t all deceased. I responded:
“Hunter X Hunter, clicking from outpost Zeta! Bogies infiltrated, but stable at present. No bodies standing but myself. What the fuck is happening?!”
“Hunter! Jesus Christ, thank God you made it! We’re engaged! Two teams reconnoitred at outpost Beta; holding steady but pressed for ground! Four bogies, but there’s a large body heading towards our location! They’re fast and we can’t maintain a bead! No visual on the large body! We need a goddamn helping hand!”
I thumbed the pad and opened the Comm-link, grabbing the baton within; the compartment was always filled with a worse-case scenario defense against whatever the Project classified as the greatest threat. Most recently it had held a high-pressure pepper bomb in defense against what we called a Gorgon, a reptilian creature with snake- or vine-like appendages and more than a dozen eyes scattered about its torso. I barked a laugh when I found the E-baton. Klem, and the facility, worked quickly, as hoped.
There was also a contingency held within every outpost that was heavily advised against: an RPG with a payload of a custom-made, super-aggressive form of acidic napalm. I’d fired one at a weapons test, once, and it terrified me out of firing one ever again. The acidic and incendiary components ensured that the target burned up real good. It was devastating to watch.
It was perfect.
Clutching the baton and shouldering the strap of the RPG I hustled down the stairs and sprinted towards outpost Beta, two outposts away. I kept my sidearm leveled; I wasn’t taking any chances.
I made a sweep through outpost Alpha to ensure I wouldn’t be blindsided; nothing there. It was likely at Beta already, one of the four.
I slowed as I approached Beta. I could see a white body climbing the tower, skipping side to side to avoid gunfire. Ten meters away I took aim and plugged two rounds into its back, causing it to shriek and fall. I leveled the E-baton and fired as it hit the ground with a solid *whump*. I kept it triggered, just like the last time, hoping it felt excruciating pain as it died. I ran past the smoking corpse and climbed the stairs two at a time. I could hear the sounds of engagement within the corridor.
They were keeping two of the bastards back; a spray of bullets cut one of the monster’s legs from under it, but it kept moving, crawling forward with alarming speed. I managed to put two rounds in the back of its head. This alerted the other, and it jumped backwards, over my head, alighting on the landing behind me. “HUNTER COMING UP!” I screamed as I sprinted the rest of the stairs, hoping it was enough to avoid friendly fire. My first view of the outpost showed too many bodies. Only two men standing, out of eight. Jesus.
I knew I had only seconds. I leapt into the tower room, spinning and leveling my sidearm. I started shooting before I could get a bead; I had no time to take my time.
Two rounds, missed.
The Anti-Human was already airborne, streaking towards me with claws outstretched. I hit the ground, and kept firing.
One round, a shoulder hit.
It landed on me, pinning me to the floor.
Only two rounds left.
I angled the firearm as best I could and plugged my last two shots into its abdomen. It smiled at me, spittle dribbling from its mouth in anticipation. I knew I was fucked.
From behind and above there were two short bursts, *brap! brap!*
Semi-automatic rounds shredded the thing’s face, covering me in viscera and spittle. It collapsed on top of me; it was surprisingly heavy. I struggled to free myself. The last man helped me to my feet.
“I need ammo! Where’s the fourth one?!”
The man (I think his name was Wade) handed me a mag for my sidearm and one of the subs.
“You’re either crazy, or stupid, to be diving around with that goddamned rocket strapped to your back!” he said disparagingly; I suddenly remembered why I never bothered to memorize his name.
“We’re in the middle of a shit-fest and you’re concerned about playing it safe? If we make it through this I’ll buy you some fucking pool floaties, now where the hell is the fourth one?!”
My answer was a pale arm reaching up from behind the balustrade to grip Wade’s ankle and snapping it with one quick twist. The bone collapsed under the force of that grip; Wade collapsed too, screaming in pain. He was dragged out, over the edge, clawing to find purchase. I reached for him but he was tossed out into the forest like a motherfuckin’ child tossing a G.I Joe; his shrill shriek didn’t end until he hit the ground.I steadied the sub, waiting for it to make an appearance. I hated these things. I hated them! I wanted to end them!
“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!”
A bony white hand appeared, held open.
It waved, a little, acknowledging my rage.
Pressing down, the hand slowly lifted the Anti-Human into view. Its demonic face appeared; its other arm, assisting its climb, nails gouging into the concrete; its bony torso, shoulders jutting and ribcage visible. It stood tall, facing me. It didn’t move; it didn’t square itself up to attack. I stood ten feet away. Why didn’t I shoot?!
I could…hear something. No, I could feel something, something alien. Something…I think the thing was trying to communicate with me, using its Dark Empathy.
I suppressed a shudder and, against my better judgment, tried to listen. There were…impressions…I could put them into words with a little thought:
Hatred…hatred for ME and…admiration? Acknowledgement? Was it…proud…of me? What was it proud of?Then another sending, so powerful it almost made my knees buckle:
HATREDYOURHATREDMYHATREDYOURHATREDMYHATREDYOUR…
I couldn’t take it. Bellowing, I pulled the trigger.
It wasn’t long until I heard chatter on the Comm. Apparently, the blitz was over; all the outposts with survivors were starting to check in.
The outposts were visited by one Anti-Human each. The men at Alpha, Delta, and Zeta were slaughtered; Gamma was lucky, as it seemed the watch there was effective enough to spot the monster before it took any lives. They were the ones that converged on Beta; it seems that the four Anti-Humans that I encountered showed up after they reclaimed the tower.
The facility itself faced similar casualties.
Almost half of the operatives, Desk Jockeys, and Lab Coats inside were killed. From what we could make out, only three creatures actually made it inside. The lack of trained personnel ensured they had a happy slaughter. One was killed; two slipped away.
They hit us hard. They wanted to cripple us. They did a bang up job.
I couldn’t get my mind to settle after the incident. I ruminated on the lost friends. I felt overwhelmed from the scope of the damage control we had on our hands. But something else kept troubling me…
After I wasted that Anti-Human who communicated with me, I approached the opening revealing the forest and did a sweep to check for any more threats. I saw something, deep in the cover of branches. A shadow of something big. I heard snapping branches as it turned and lumbered away with earth-shaking steps. And I felt something. From the shadow creature.
Pride Approval
And then, fading, as it strode away:
SOON….Soon….soon…
I couldn’t help feeling as if the Anti-Humans and I would meet again