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Michelle - Jungle Fever

  2:12 A.M. Brasilia Time, December 13th, 2041

  8 hours, 14 minutes post-impact event

  “So, you got any plans after this, Ms. Alvarez?” One of the BOPE officers asked, causing his buddies to crack smirks and chuckle.

  The APC rocked unsteadily as it passed through one of the many divots in the rural road, giving Michelle a chance to pipe up. “I’ll probably be cleaning off the blood after I carry your sorry asses back, then filling out paperwork for the Feds at home before I conk out for the night. Don’t know how familiar you guys are with that, though. Usually, you’d have to know how to read.”

  There was a brief pause, and then the officers laughed harder, clapping each other on the back and muttering to themselves. Even Carlos- assuming the name on his badge was his real name, anyway- chuckled along at the comment, giving her a brief respite. The dull din of helicopter rotors caught her attention for a moment, and then her mind drifted from her fellow officers back to the mission at hand.

  She hated rural brazil. Anywhere this close to the equator, actually. The heat and humidity had supposedly been bad before the world warmed, but she’d only known it in the few decades since. And right on the equator, the heat was stifling. Anytime she was outside it felt like she could barely breathe, let alone run around with the body armor, weapons, and the other equipment she was carrying now. That’d been just one of the factors that’d led to them conducting this mission at night.

  The other was that drug dealers didn’t commonly carry night vision gear. Despite their heavy equipment- like the APCs and two lightly armored helicopters overhead- she and the BOPE officers supporting her were police. Michelle was DEA herself, but that didn’t leave her at too much of a disadvantage with the Brazilian police. Special operations were just her kind of mission.

  The crackle of her radio caught everyones attention. She reached up and pressed the transmission switch, then tilted it up to her mouth from where it was clipped near her collar bone. “Alvarez here, sitrep?”

  “We’re closing on the compound, ma’am. Better get ready, the place looks like its been through hell since we last conducted recon.” One of their pilots radioed.

  “Confirmed, over and out.” Michelle answered, before cutting her feed. “Hear that boys? Almost there. Time to get your game faces on.”

  The squad nodded as one, and the sound of unslinging weapons filled the vehicle as men conducted final checks on their equipment. Everyone present knew it wasn’t necessary- they’d checked their gear before they’d left their staging area a few hours back- but it didn’t hurt. They down to a man understood the value of properly maintained equipment, and Michelle worked no slower than them, checking every facet of her weapons and tools.

  This operation wasn’t light work- she had an automatic rifle strapped over her shoulder, a pistol strapped at her hip, and magazines and flashbangs dotted across her vest where they’d be easy to reach. They even had a BOPE gunship on standby, on top of the APCs and helos they’d already brought along, in case the compound contained more firepower than they could deal with themselves. Night vision goggles were attached to her helmet, a tool she’d seldom had to use but which they’d all agreed was probably necessary tonight. The time alone saw to that, it being only a few hours before dawn, but the thick clouds overhead had only added to their usefulness.

  It was only moments longer before their APCs rolled to a stop with their headlights trained on the drug factory, allowing the bulk of their armor to shield the BOPE officers they were disgorging. The helicopters buzzed overhead, keeping their lights trained on the ruined structure for any sign of movement. As Michelle climbed free, rifle in hand, she quickly understood the pilots statement.

  The facility they’d seen in their briefing had been sprawling; a central warehouse for storage and distribution, with surrounding structures likely for logistics or production of various illicit paraphernalia, and even some silos for chemical storage. Now, the compound was a smoldering wreck. Some fires still burned among the wreckage, eerily lighting the ash strewn area. Their helicopters search lights struggled to cut through the lingering smoke, but where they did Michelle saw more of the same: cinders and ruin.

  “Well, so much for the NV gear. This night just got a lot more boring. Guarantee you they’ve cleared out, and we're never gonna find them at night.” Another officer, Luis, intoned.

  “Had to have had someone on the inside.” Another, Pedro, agreed.

  Michelle gave a shake of her head. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll see what we can recover, then we’ll establish a cordon and guard the compound until we can get a team out to evaluate the site. A facility this big? There’s bound to be some stones unturned.”

  “All night? We aren’t drones.” Another piped up.

  “Then we’ll stay until we can get the regulars out here, but we’re not leaving a find like this unguarded. Split up and start looking for evidence, we’ll comb the site and radio back when we’ve confirmed the area is clear. Oh, and watch out for booby traps.”

  The assembled men gave grumbles of approval, then got to work, splitting off in teams of two until only herself and Carlos remained.

  “My lucky night, eh?”

  “Only if you get through it with all your teeth. Form up, I want to check out that warehouse.” Michelle snapped.

  There was a ghost of a smirk on Carlos’ face. “Yes ma’am.” He drawled, before turning and starting to clamber his way through the ruins towards the central structure. Michelle rolled her eyes at his back, then started picking through the debris after him. If he kept this up, it was going to be a long couple hours.

  As they picked through the debris, one thing quickly started to become abundantly clear. For all her bravado about finding something in the sprawling complex, that was looking less and less likely. Their teams had already cleared the closer half of the compound by the time the two of them managed to pick their way through the debris to the warehouse, and Michelle couldn’t even find it in herself to doubt them. Out of the structures, only the warehouse remained standing, the skeletal remains of the chemical silos not included.

  Michelle hopped through one of the broken windows into the lower floor of the massive structure, breaking remnant shards of glass as she went. Her boots crackled shards that’d fallen loose from the frame, and then she motioned to Carlos, who looked through the broken window at her dubiously.

  “Are we sure it’s a good idea to stomp around a burned out husk of a building? One wrong move and this thing could collapse on top of us.”

  Michelle thought to retort, but reconsidered as a helicopter buzzed overhead, causing the rafters to quake dangerously as spiraling air currents buffeted the weakened structure. She and Carlos flinched as they heard the distant crashing of falling objects; likely some burnt out ceiling, or light fixtures, or something of the like, prompting Michelle to reach for her radio again.

  “Helos, please stand-by. The main warehouse is pretty fragile, don’t want it crashing on our heads due to the winds you’re kicking up. Over.”

  “Affirmative ma’am, standing by.”

  The buzz of the helicopters quickly retreated, still audible but more distant, prompting Carlos to give her a look. One that Michelle returned. “What’s the matter, still scared? Do you need a blankie too?”

  He chuckled at that, before unclasping a flashlight from his belt and flicking it on as he hopped in, lighting the room. Michelle followed suit, and motioned for Carlos to lead the way. He obliged, and they started to explore.

  It looked like some kind of conference room, maybe. Or the burnt out husk of one, anyway. A massive, formerly ornate table stood in the middle of the blackened room, while a charred, warped television sat half-melted on the wall. Chairs were scattered about, catching Michelles attention. She knelt and frowned, letting her gaze trail along the table, following the path of the chairs.

  “This wasn’t planned.” She finally stated.

  Carlos raised an eyebrow at her. “How do you figure?”

  “See these chairs?” She asked, standing and motioning along the length of the table. “They were thrown back, like people stood in a hurry and just let them fall. Whoever was in here was startled. They raced along here-” She indicated, pointing and following a trail through the air. “-and out that door.” She finished, letting her finger linger on the entrance to the conference room.

  “So? They got late warning of us. Still means they’re long gone by now.”

  Michelle glared at him, then ran a finger over the conference table. Ash collected on her fingers, revealing the pristine hardwood underneath. “Even with late warning, these guys are always organized enough to get a job done right. They’re cartel members, that’s what they do. There are probably documents that survived, buried under this debris. Why leave them here? Why flee in a hurry? Something happened.”

  Carlos nodded along, in thought himself. “And the only way to find out what-”

  “-Is to find out what got them so worked up.” Michelle answered. “My bet? It’s what caused this fire.” She finished, starting toward the door.

  Carlos quickly followed suit, and within a few steps they were through and onto the ground floor of the warehouse's main storage room. Her breath caught, prompting him to jitter to a stop, eyes wide.

  Michelle had been in drug storage warehouses before, and what she saw before her didn’t overly differentiate from that. There were racks and racks of boxed goods, long since burnt out, whatever poison that’d been stored in them cooked to dust. Rolling doors that’d ordinarily allow transit of goods were melted shut at the far end of the warehouse, distant enough that Michelle knew it’d take her a good few minutes to cover the distance even at a decent jog. Other jagged doorways were visible among the destruction, some collapsed but others open, like veins criss crossing some colossal organ. None of that was what caught her attention, though. Instead, it was the growths.

  There was some beating, pulsating thing, faintly beating with dull thumps that rattled the deathly still air of the warehouse. Twinkling violet bioluminescence blinked in time with the things pulse, dotted across the sprawling structure stretched across the warehouse. Michelle managed to tear her eyes away from it for long enough to work out where it had to have come from: the hole in the ceiling, charred and burnt from its entry.

  Michelles radio chose then to crackle back to life, causing her to jump out of her skin. “Ms. Alvarez, there’s nothing here. We’ve searched the whole compound. There’s just smoldering remnants, nothing useful. Maybe there’s evidence buried under it, but it’ll take a team digging through this in the morning to extract it. All we’re doing now is wasting time, might as well call in those regulars to cordon off the area pending forensics.”

  “Uh, yeah. About that. Meet us in the warehouse, I’m having a hard time understanding what I’m looking at. We’ve already determined there might be some evidence that survived here but uh, avoid the central chamber. There might be a biohazard present.”

  “A what!?”

  “Just get in here, stat. And take caution, like I said, I haven’t the slightest clue what I’m looking at.”

  “Affirmative, we’ll group up on you shortly.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Carlos asked, incredulous. “We don’t even know what that is. Are we sure this was a drug plant?”

  “I don’t think cartels typically have much interest in bioweapons.”

  “I still don’t like this, boss lady. That looks alive.”

  “Yeah, so, let’s stay away from it.” Michelle agreed. “Stick to the edges, let’s cut around and explore the rooms on the other side, yeah?”

  Carlos nodded wordlessly, but holstered his flashlight and unslung his rifle, flicking on its mounted light. He shouldered it and took point, although Michelle was relieved to note he kept his finger from the trigger for now. For her part, she simply drew her sidearm, keeping her flashlight adjacent. If they had to light that bulb of… whatever up, then at least she’d be able to run if it reacted. The two of them kept to the edges of the warehouse floor, avoiding charred debris and pooled fluids that looked like they’d dripped from the thing at the center. Distantly, they heard the sounds of their fellow officers breaching the structure from all angles, but they didn’t pay it any heed. All their attention was drawn by the thing in the center.

  Their breaths released when they finally cleared the warehouse storeroom, entering an adjacent hallway. Michelle hadn’t even realized she’d been holding hers, but the two of them recovered quickly, and with a shared nod they carried on.

  “All teams have breached the warehouse, ma’am. We’ve lost visual, all good down there?”

  Ah, right. It was probably a good idea to keep the helo pilots informed. She clasped her hand to her radio again, keeping a tight grip on her flashlight and opting to point her pistol at the floor. “All clear so far, but we have a suspected biohazard on site. We need regulars out here to cordon off the site, CSI, and probably a team to inspect this thing, over.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “Roger, ma’am.”

  There was a sound down the hall. Carlos tensed then, and she glanced up at him, quickly aiming down the hall with him. There was nothing there, though. He’d gone clammy, and quickly wiped a hand over his face, blinking rapidly. “You ok, man?” she asked.

  “Thought I saw somethin’. A person. But they looked wrong.”

  “The hell do you mean ‘wrong?’”

  “They looked fucked up man, I don’t know. Like that thing back there, all gross and bulbous and shit. Can we get out of here now? We need to just wait for backup.”

  “C’mon ‘spec ops’, I thought you guys had more grit than that.” She teased.

  “Can you at least call in the gunship then? The look of that-”

  “Seriously? There’s nobody fucking here!”

  “Still on call, ma’am.”

  As if in answer, the sounds of a scuffle echoed down the hall.

  “What the fuck!?”

  “Stop right there! Hey-!”

  There was a brief flutter, the report of a gunshot, then a wet snap and a rip that sent shivers up Michelles spine. The sound of two heavy somethings collapsing gave her little doubt as to what’d occurred, then a wet grrgl followed.

  “Hello…? Hellllp.”

  The voice was weak… but familiar. Michelle noticed Carlos’ breath hitch. “Who is that?”

  “Pedro, but-” He squinted, wiping more sweat from his eyes. “His voice doesn’t sound right. He and Luis were grouped up together, you don’t think-?”

  “Officers down. Get that fucking gunship in the air.” She snarled, quickly holstering her pistol and unslinging her rifle.

  “Ma’am, it’ll be a few minutes-”

  “I don’t care. Be ready to provide support, but don’t get too close to this structure. The last thing we need is for it to collapse on our heads.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The pilot answered, and she promptly clicked her radio back off.

  Michelle lit her rifles flashlight, before shouldering it and exchanging a glance with Carlos. “After you.”

  He gave a sharp nod, and they advanced down the hall together. The broken wheezes and gargles of their fellow officers continued, along with that same repeated cry for help. Shadows and ash danced off the walls mockingly as their rapid movements disturbed the air. Michelle got to the intersection first, peeking around the corner. Her flashlight lit the dark like a spotlight: there was another intersection further ahead. She motioned to Carlos, and he stepped around the corner with her, but something else caught her eye and she held up her fist.

  Michelle noticed him quirk an eyebrow at her out of the corner of his eye, but she ignored him, kneeling into the ash to inspect the imprinted footsteps. She ran her hand through it quizzically, not quite understanding what she was looking at. She promptly stood, then pointed her barrel at the top of the print, motioning to Carlos. He gave the print a glance, and she could immediately tell that he’d caught what she had when he locked eyes with her and mouthed a few choice swears. Claws had ripped into the flooring, tipping the unmistakable human footprint where toes should have been. Another wet grrgl echoed around the bend, and the two of them immediately locked eyes down the hall. Whatever was making that sound was right around the corner.

  Michelle jerked her head in the direction of the noise, and the two quickly resumed moving down the hall. They were in lockstep, each moving with the other, until they reached the last intersection. The broken gurgles were clearer now, and a listless shuffling echoed around the bend.

  The two exchanged a knowing look. Whatever injury their fellow officers had suffered meant they weren’t going to survive for aid, if that sound was any indication. Better to kill who’d killed them. They turned quickly, bright white light flashing for another flame-blackened room- and Michelle almost dropped her rifle at the sight. Luis was on the far wall. Or, well, half of him was. The man’s listless, dead stare felt like it was locked on her, an unnerving feeling with his torso spilling gore from where he’d been bisected. Michelle faintly noticed his legs neatly stacked on a nearby table and nearly passed out in response, only kept from doing so by the apparition standing in the middle of the room.

  Michelle and Carlos cried out in alarm as the naked, dead thing turned towards them. If it’d been human before, it wasn’t anymore. Its black, lifeless eyes drank in the light while the blood and gore coating its pale skin dripped thickly. Something unholy wriggled under the once-man’s skin, causing his parchment thin flesh to bulge and writhe. Tentacled things slithered out of his ears and nose, and from cancerous bioluminescent bulbs that dotted his flesh. Yet worse was his tongue, a bumpy, violet, spiked limb that limply drooped all the way to his toes while carrying Pedro’s severed head.

  “Please… grrgl… please kill me.” The heads jaw moved as it spoke, and then that tongue slipped free, dropping the head with a wet thud. The monstrosity took a shuffled step forward.

  Michelle and Carlos immediately opened up, their automatic weapons fire deafening in the confines of the burned out building as they pelted the post-human with bullets. More tentacled masses surged from sores and boils dotting the man, shielding him from the onslaught. Within seconds Michelles rifle clicked dry, and she immediately dropped the magazine, slotted a new one in, then chambered the next round and kept firing. The post-human kept advancing as she and Carlos backed up into the hall, keeping up a steady rhythm of fire on the thing seemingly to no effect. Michelles radio was crackling with activity, but she couldn’t spare it a second- if they gave the infected man a moment to advance on them, she was sure it’d rip them apart.

  She got an answer to her crackling radio anyway a moment later, when the monstrosity turned and flicked its spiked, tentacled tongue back the way they’d come. Michelle heard a mangled cry over the din, then the heavy crumpling of two new corpses as it returned its attention to the prey before it. Its jaws dripped with fresh blood, but the clatter of spent rifles falling to the floor and pounding footsteps were its only answer.

  “What the FUCK is that!?” Michelle shouted, as they sprinted back the way they’d come.

  An animal snarl called back, and the beat of her heart redoubled as she heard masses harshly slam into walls at a dizzying pace. She spared a glance behind her, in time to see the post-humans tendrils curl around the wall, dragging the pale inhuman as they went. Pitch black eyes locked on them again as the man's face twisted in alien rage.

  Carlos didn’t bother to answer as the two kept up their sprint, bursting back into the warehouse proper. Surprised officers jumped, no doubt alerted by the automatic weapons fire. Thankfully they were controlled enough to avoid lighting the two of them up, something that couldn’t be said for the post-human as it coiled around the corner and onto the warehouse floor. Panicked shouts echoed at the sight of the thing, and more rounds thumped through the air as a dozen officers opened fire. For a moment, Michelle had hope that it might be enough. Until the bulbous thing in the center roared to life, protecting its host. Tentacles the size of logs rose up from coils on the floor, spearing and thrashing through her fellow officers.

  The two of them didn’t have time to give their new hell any heed, though. The wrath of whatever they’d stumbled upon was starting to crumble the structure. Debris rained from above as the bulbous mass’ writhing tendrils carved through the burned out building, shredding man, machine and matter. The post-human was still locked on them, but it had to pause to shield itself from more falling machinery and roofing material, giving Michelle and Carlos an opening to dive back into the room they’d entered through.

  The building groaned dangerously, prompting them to scramble back to their feet as adrenaline beat through their chests. An anguished, alien shriek echoed from behind as they threw themselves out the window and through the breach, and then the building collapsed. Tons upon tons of concrete and steel collapsed on the monstrosities within as the warehouse crumpled with a roar. The two kept themselves shielded for what felt like minutes as the ground quaked, but seconds later the moment passed and they gave each other a look, unharmed.

  Michelle immediately crawled to her feet and groped for her radio while the helicopters buzzed protectively overhead.

  “Alvarez here, whats the eta on that FUCKING gunship?” She screamed, panting for breath.

  “We’ll need to radio them to see, but what the hell happened in there? There were at least a dozen officers-”

  A bloom of light illuminated the ground, prompting Michelle to look up, terrified and confused. The sight of a flaming helicopter tumbling to the ground filled her with dread.

  “What the hell- SHIT-”

  She heard a horrible scrape and a shift from behind as the rubble shifted, and then another chunk of concrete went airborne. The surviving helicopter narrowly avoided it, and the BOPE officers inside immediately opened fire above her and Carlos’ heads. The two of them quickly broke into a sprint toward the APCs as another enraged shriek screeched into the humid air behind them. The few remaining officers that’d been closing on them followed suit, quickly retreating as the post-human advanced. Some officers took pauses to give pot shots, distracting the enraged thing enough that it kept missing its tosses of concrete. So, it began tossing debris at the easier targets.

  Michelle flinched powerfully when a wet splat sounded, nearly losing her footing in the rubble as a chunk of concrete sailed past her. She vaguely noticed an unidentifiable mass glued to the front, and then it was past and into the forest, sending a tree thundering to the ground. Another sailed past, missing the officer that dove and instead carving into the earth, sending dirt spraying as it bounced and slammed into one of the APCs, sending the vehicle rocking. Michelle heard a much too close snarl, then a wet tearing as she felt viscous warmth splatter her back- and then she was vaulting into the APC. She whirled around, reaching for Carlos, only to notice his two halves held in the grip of the monstrosity, the crumpled bodies of other officers scattered across the ruin.

  Michelle wrenched the door shut as a tentacle slammed into it, denting the armor. The buzz of the helicopter drifted closer in an attempt to provide better cover. Too close. She heard a phenomenal impact through the hull as silence took over briefly, then the vehicle rocked under her feet as the last helicopter crashed to the ground. Her rabid panting filled the dead air, almost uncomprehending as to what’d just happened. Then another impact slammed into the APCs door.

  She screamed in panic as the dent grew, prompting her to scramble back on her ass and draw her sidearm, aiming right at the door. Another impact, and this time a tentacle slammed through, knotting itself tightly before wrenching and tearing the armored door from its hinges. The post-human glared viciously, those pitch black eyes staring into her soul, and then it lunged for her.

  Michelle was already moving though, pushing off the wall behind her and rolling as the infected thing vaulted over her head. Tentacles sprouted from it anew, carving for her as she fell out of the APC, impaling themselves through the floor. She locked on its head through her sights as it turned for her, and immediately noticed her opening- its tentacles were disabled for the moment, stuck through the hull of the APC. She opened fire. It tried to use its arms to shield its face, but her bullets carved right through its parchment-thin skin. It screamed in rage, rocking the APC as it struggled to rip its tentacles free while brackish black blood spewed in thick gouts from its wounds. Her magazine clicked empty right as it ripped its tentacles free, causing Michelle to throw her arms up in a vain attempt to shield herself- and then a faint gurgle and the tumbling of a body prompted her to slowly lower her arms.

  The thing had tumbled from the wrecked APC, its head a mangled mass of bone, gore, and blood. Michelle yelped as its tentacles twitched, and hurriedly scrambled away from it, giving herself ample distance in case it somehow stumbled back to life. She scurried to her feet once she felt safer, slotting another magazine and racking the slide. The buzz of combat slowly began to filter from her head, leaving a lingering sense of dread. And oh god- the officers-

  Michelle keeled over and threw up, gagging and retching as the hell of the past few minutes caught up with her. She didn’t even notice the thunder of the gunships blades cutting through the noise. Nor the wet thumps of an unrecognizable mass slowly crawling to its feet. Both sounds hit her after a few seconds though, and she slowly backed away as the faceless thing stumbled aimlessly. Before she could get a second to scream, or cry, to do anything; a spotlight locked onto it. Autocannon fire sheared through the monstrosity, causing Michelle to scream in alarm as it burst apart and died.

  An agonized shriek burst from under the rubble that’d once been the warehouse, and then the spotlight flicked around, locking on. More tentacled masses burst through, chasing the gunship, but they were weaker now. Slower. Both from the pain it’d suffered when the structure collapsed atop it, and from the death of its host. Autocannon fire carved through as the pilot deftly weaved away from the flailing lengths, and then the gunship opened up with rocket fire. They impacted with earth shaking thumps that nearly sent Michelle to the ground, their explosions lighting the night. All quickly fell silent, except the dull thunder of the gunship, and Michelles own rapidly pounding heart. Only then did the helicopter start to descend.

  — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

  Mac’Ewen startled awake drenched in sweat, clutching at his chest. He was panting hard, but it was hard for him to grasp whether it was from terror, disgust, or sheer confusion. What kind of dream had that been? He could barely stomach dreaming of that kind of agony, let alone having that many… limbs. Sweat was dripping from his night clothes, soaking the mattress beneath and causing a gross, wet, slick sound to gasp into the dark as he rolled off the cot. He unsteadily rose to his feet, then immediately keeled over and went to his knees. Everything felt like it was on fire. His head was pounding, like something was trying to beat its way out of his skull. Stretches of his flesh felt like they were boiling in agony while muscle spasms ripped him apart, causing him to gasp a muted groan into his hands as his pain caught up with him.

  He felt completely parched- moreso even than usual in this barren stretch of the Syrian desert, and he struggled back to his feet intending to get some water. Even as Mac slowly clambered upright, things felt wrong. His feet felt leaden, yet agonized. He barely managed to put one foot in front of the other while sharp pinpricks of pain carved through his toes and the soles of his feet, causing him to gasp for breath. Macs legs were stiff and painful, and deep in his groggy, besieged mind, he started to realize that he wasn’t supposed to be feeling this way.

  He stumbled across the barracks floor, his brow furrowed in thought even over the vicious pain. What’d he been…? He’d been trying to… sleep. That was it. Him and his platoon, the other guys, they were-

  It hit him, and his senses started to come back to him. His weren’t the only moans he could hear. Mac lurched unsteadily, almost like he’d just learned to walk, as he turned and nearly fell over a nearby bunk. One of his fellow Green Berets, Davis, was wrapped up tightly in his own thin blanket, writhing and moaning in pain and similarly soaked in sweat. Mac tried to talk, but his tongue refused to budge. His mouth was burning, and his tongue felt swollen. Wrong. Like it was bulging his cheeks and cutting into his own gums and jaws, but that couldn’t be right.

  He made a few groans and grunts, trying to speak, quickly stopping as searing agony ripped through his gums. Mac coughed as thick, hot fluid filled his mouth, before he put his hand up to his face and tried to spit it out. Solid bits went with it, and he looked down, vaguely picking out teeth among the blood in the dark. A wave of nausea lurched through him, and Mac keeled over again, nearly collapsing over Davis. It felt like his stomach was trying to crawl up his throat, and he gagged, expelling more… he didn’t even want to know, actually, between his fingers and onto the covers.

  Still the man didn’t budge, and Mac was starting to panic now as his mind began to breach the brain fog that seemed to be trying to lull him. Everywhere was agony, and the thing beating at his head felt like it was starting to scream. It even felt like little nightmares were ripping open his pores, and in a frenzy he finally just ripped the covers off of Davis.

  He fell back with a muted shriek that sounded more like a feral groan, before he started to scramble away from the man. His hands furrowed into the concrete beneath him as he scrabbled, before he gained his feet and pressed himself back into the wall, denting it. He gasped for air, his ragged pants rattling his wriggling organs.

  Even in the dark, he’d been able to see it. Feel it. There was something squirming beneath Davis’ skin. And if it was squirming in his squad mate…

  As if understanding it’d been sensed, the darkness began to writhe. Crawl. Shadows reached for him; from walls, from under cots, even from the bulging flesh of his squadmates, as bioluminescent horrors peeked through splits in the pavement of the barracks. Instead of facing it, he turned and ran. Torment like ragged glass raking through his veins tried to slow him, but adrenaline was stronger, carrying him as he lurched into the bathroom and sent the door from its hinges. He didn’t even notice as the metal frame skewered the concrete wall, instead entrapped by his appearance in the mirror.

  He’d grown, somehow. He was bigger. Stronger. Things were writhing in his belly, still midway through their alterations. Even so, his skin was already pallid. Dead, he’d call it. Weeping black eyes stared at him in shock, darker than pitch, while other oils and fluids oozed from boils dotting his altered form. He raised a head-sized hand, and ran it over his face in shock, feeling not the slightest pain as claws dug into his flesh. Mac tried to yell, scream, do something, but all he could do was gargle and groan, croaking as something crept up his throat.

  It blocked out his air and stretched his esophagus to breaking, causing him to gag. He clawed at his throat desperately, easily parting bloodless flesh until he saw a mutated, black length through the ragged tears he’d torn into himself. It was crawling up, and- he gagged again as he felt it coil in his mouth, causing tears and rips as it adjusted. Then it lurched for his lips. He clapped his hands over his mouth as it coiled and pressed, the barest spiked tip parting flesh as it tried to squirm free. Mac could barely comprehend that this nightmare was still going, let alone that he was gagging and retching as an arm-thick bladed organ ripped its way up his throat.

  He lasted bare seconds, finally giving into the urge to vomit. Mac collapsed to his knees, spasming hard enough to fracture the ground beneath him. Instead of anything coming up, though, the length speared free. Blades and spines burst through his lips, ruining his face further, taking flesh and gore with them as the alien tendril limply hung down until it pooled in a coil on the bathroom floor.

  Mac spasmed and panted limply, exhausted and agonized beyond his worst nightmares. Gradually though, the pain started to fade. It was like taking pebbles away from an avalanche, but it was something, and over what felt like an eternity it finally started to ease. Bliss started to creep in, and Mac distantly recognized the feeling. He was being drugged, or his body’s senses were being turned against him, somehow. It felt just like he’d imagined it in boot camp, when his instructors had described methods of torture. This wasn’t that, though. It had to be a nightmare. Right? RIGHT!?

  He got his answer when that rabid hunger gnawing at his brain redoubled with a vengeance. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be pained, anymore. The scream was still there, but the tendrils crawling through his mind were seeding a lullaby. Soothing. Tranquil, almost, as the thing carved apart his mind. He almost thought to resist- and then he heard it. Thoughts, not his own.

  You’re delectable, but you needn’t suffer. We can work together, I think. How would you like to watch a world burn?

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