The Aberration (6 page)

Their ordinary attire only belied their silently screaming faces as they pressed in numbers so thick the office was quickly smothered; it darkened so virtually nothing was visible in the door’s thin window except those pale, awful shrieking faces that plastered against it.

“They… they killed Rob.”  Michael’s train of thought had long since left the station.  He stared shell-shocked at the Others crammed against the door.

Drake panted like an overheated dog.  “We have to… get out of here!  They’re gonna… get inside and kill… all of us!”

Guy continued to stare at the frozen, twisted faces that peered through the window.  As one, the swimming eyes turned downward.

At the door’s keypad.

Guy raised the shotgun.  “Back upstairs!  Now!”  The reverberation of quickly moving feet told him that they obeyed.  He never took his eyes from the screaming faces, which slowly contorted into leering grins; hideous smiles of malevolent triumph.

The familiar sound of keypad beeping never sounded so ominous.  They had access to Rob’s memories.  His code worked as well as anyone’s.

There was no way to keep them out.

The door crashed inward from their weight; liquid flesh spilled into the hall as they rolled on top of each other in undisguised eagerness, sliding across the slick tiles.  Compared to their speed he was impossibly slow as he backed up the stairs.  The duffel bag over his shoulder dragged like dead weight. 

The nearest Other reached for him; elongated fingers yearning…

Guy pulled the trigger.  Thunder filled his ears; shattering the brittle silence.  He winced and staggered backwards from the reverberation more than the force of the blast. 

Rob’s s grinning face exploded in wads of pulpy splattered chunks. 

The gaping wound erupted with wriggling things.  A torrent of pale, assorted insects: spiders, centipedes, cockroaches and thick earthworms spewed from the flailing corpse as it tumbled back into its comrades. 

The insects surged over them; an endless sea of crawling legs and writhing bodies writhed endlessly.  Faceless once more, the Others thrashed wildly as the insects covered them; their silent screams crawled up his skin.

He fled up the dark stairwell to escape their death throes.

In the reddened hallway he remembered his radio.  “Michael?  Drake?  Where are you?”

“
Guy
?  Thank God you’re still alive… we’re back in the lab.  Are those…
things
still after you?”

Guy didn’t bother answering.  When he entered the lab something swung at his head.  He ducked and avoided the wastebasket that struck the wall behind him.  “What the
hell
?”

Fran shrugged guiltily.  “Sorry, I thought…”

“We heard a gunshot.  Are they
after
you?”

“Not right now…” Guy stared down the hall.  Nothing stirred in the blood-colored light.  “I killed one.  It started eating the others.”

“What?”

“Insects.  Spiders and… other things.  I don’t think it’s going to stop them.  At best I slowed them down, I think.”

The group stared at him somberly.  Michael finally broke the silence.  “Listen.  What… what you said earlier.  Something about an… Aberration.”

Guy barked a rough laugh.  “Still think I’m crazy?”

Michael’s face reddened.  “Look. 
Everything
is crazy right now.  This is just…”  He pounded his forehead with his palm, wincing.  “I can’t die here.  I can’t…”

Guy placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder.  “Calm down.  I’ll try to explain what I know.”

The others gathered around as Michael looked up.  “What’s going on?  Why the hell is this happening?”

Guy looked down the hall again.  Nothing was visible.  But they were there.  He felt the whispers in his mind.

“To understand what an Aberration is, you have to first understand that there are other planes of existence that exist beyond ours.”

The others stared as the revelation sunk in.

Drake rubbed between his eyes.  “You mean other… worlds?”   

“Places like ours?” Fran said.

Guy looked at her.  Her eyes widened at his expression.

“No.  Not at all like ours.” 

He took another wary look down the hall.

“You coin the term ‘evil’ to cover many things.  Dictators and terrorists.  Murderers and rapists.  You have no idea what evil is.  Where it lives.”

He looked back at them.  “At least not until now.”

“What dimension are you talking about?” Drake asked.  “Hell?”

Guy was silent a moment.

“The only thing I can tell you is that it’s a place of nameless terrors.  Evil… simmers there.  Trapped.  Seeking a way into this world.  We had no names for the manifestations that spawn from that darkness.  We simply call them Others.”

Fran’s glasses reflected owl-like in the gloom.  “How do you know about this?  Who are you?”

Guy smiled bitterly.  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try us,” Drake said.  “It’s not like we have any other explanations…”

Guy sighed.  “I am one of a few who remember, and even the memory is faded.  We were given the name Warders and were tasked with locating Aberrations and destroying them before they can engulf this world.”

He paused.  Their faces were skeptical, but they listened.

“Usually we track them by signs: unexplained phenomenon, bizarre sightings, outbreaks of madness, gatherings of ravens…”

Michael’s head jerked.  “Ravens?”

“Ravens have been harbingers of catastrophic events for a long time.  They see things that we can’t.  They can sense the formation of an Aberration.  When I saw the flock around the building today, I knew something was wrong.”  He frowned.

“But this is the first time one unfolded directly at a location specific to me.”

“What does
that
mean?”

Guy folded his arms.  “That the Others are taking the offensive.  This is not a coincidence.  It’s a carefully planned attack.”

Fran looked around as if expecting that attack any moment.  “So, if any of this is true –and I’m not saying I believe a word –but if it is… can’t you find a way to contact anyone?  You know –call for backup?”

Guy lowered his gaze.  “I wish I could.  We never used to work alone.  Always in pairs.”

“So where’s your partner?” Drake asked.

Guy’s voice lowered.  “The last one I had was killed.  For all I know, I may be the last one left.”

Guy rubbed his arms, turning in the direction of the hallway.  Their time was up.  The dim light distorted from disturbed shadows that swelled in the gloom. 

He placed the pistols on the table.  “Hope you changed your mind about being armed, Michael.  We’re about to have company. ”  He crept to the side of the door and slowly peered around the corner.

Figures stalked the crimson painted hallway.  Their gangly limbs jutted uncomfortably from their ill-fitted clothing as they shuffled in exaggerated motions.  Their facelessness had become less distinct.  They were still devoid of eyes, yet slit nostrils snuffed from the pale flesh as if in search of prey, and jutting fangs glinted metallically from the narrow gash that served as their mouths.  

The Others had evolved.

14

Muroidea

Drake snatched up the nearest .38 pistol.  Michael scrambled for the other, but Fran beat him to it.  She quickly cocked it and peered down the barrel. 

“What are you waiting for?”  Drake’s voice rose in a girlish shriek.  “They’re coming right for us!” 

The nickel plate on the .38 glinted dully in the reddish glow of the emergency lights.  Guy managed to duck as Drake screamed and pulled the trigger. 

Time turned to jelly.

The retorts were unnaturally loud in the hallway; drummers pounded the inside of his skull with furious glee in time to the flashes from the exploding muzzle.  Fran joined in with a wild yell, blindly squeezing off. 

Most of the shots ricocheted off the floor, ceiling, and walls.  Only one of the Others staggered as a pair of bullets seemed to strike it almost by accident.  It rocked on its heels, refusing to fall.  Its comrades paused, hovering as though perplexed by the steaming wounds.  Their gangly limbs never stopped moving; they jerkily bobbed up and down like a flock of agitated buzzards.

Guy rounded on Drake and Michael.  “Were you idiots aiming at
anything
?  We don’t have enough rounds to waste!” 

Michael pointed.  “What the hell?” 

The wounded Other tilted its head back and opened its mouth; a yawning cavity that stretched far wider than it had a right to.  Wider and wider the mouth stretched as though searching for the shriek that would not arrive.

Rats vomited in an unceasing torrent, impossibly huge for the orifice they spewed from.   As they disgorged, the Other sagged like a deflated balloon, a grisly sack of flesh that spilled out a river of vermin.  The rank stench of musty fur wafted ahead of them and assaulted Guy’s nostrils.  In seconds they filled the hallway; their squeaks little less than growls as they scurried forward, hundreds of furry bodies and long, naked tails advanced with gleaming eyes and fur stiffly upraised.

Drake pointed his pistol as though it still had bullets inside.  “That’s just sick!”

Guy waited until they were almost in the lab before unloading the shotgun.  Thunder shook the hallway; red pulp spattered the walls.  The remaining rats skidded fearfully before turning the way they came.

Drake panted wordlessly as he continued to pull the trigger despite the vacant chambers.  Their empty clicks were the only sound besides the shrieks of the fleeing rats.

The scene down the hall was disgustingly surreal.

In shadows and hell-colored lighting, the endless stream of oversized rats swarmed the Others as they fled back into the stairway.  The entire hallway was alive, the frantic movements only emphasized by the silence of the Others as they were assailed.

The rats attacked one another as well, one devouring the other in seconds.  With every conquest the victor swelled in size; soon rats the size of small dogs fought on the blood-slicked floor.  Guy dug clips from his duffel bag and flung them backward.

“Reload!  Quickly!”  He frantically discarded his empty shells and reloaded as the sounds of fighting vermin died down.

The rat that remained was Rottweiler-sized.  Its red eyes gleamed wetly as it snarled.  The tail that lashed furiously was as thick as Guy’s arm.

The sounds of clumsy reloading echoed behind him.  The rat seemed to sense it.  Without warning it shot forward, a dirty gray streak of matted fur and flashing teeth.  Despite the hail of bullets it barreled on, defiant even as it slipped on the bloody tiles and slid through the door.  The impact bowled them over; the entire lab was awash in the stink.

Guy picked himself up as Fran screamed.  He placed a hand on her arm.  “It’s ok.  It’s finished.”

“It’s still breathing…” She pointed the pistol, wavering in between edging forward and backing away.  “It’s still alive…”

Looking at it only made it more horrific.  With its monstrous size it appeared almost alien.  Its legs scrabbled uselessly, dragging claws in chalkboard screams across the floor.  The tail lashed like a whip, scattering lab equipment and its teeth clicked together, chomping on its tongue.  Bloody foam bubbled from its mouth.

Guy quickly put the shotgun to its head and pulled the trigger.  The bestial head rocked back, then just as quickly lunged at Guy, mouth agape and flashing yellowed fangs.

Guy was even faster.  He leaped back just out of range, then stepped back in with the long blade in his hand.  His downward swing cleanly decapitated the rat with a butcher’s efficiency.  The head rolled across the floor, spraying blackish blood.

Drake stumbled backward. “Aw man, that’s just…”

Michael collapsed against the cabinets, breathing heavily.  Guy looked at Fran.

“Not bad, Fran.  I wouldn’t have guessed you knew how to handle a gun.”

A startled look flashed across her face.  She uttered a half-hysterical cackle as she looked at the pistol in her hand.  “Single woman.  Have to be careful these days, right?”  She dislodged a bullet from one of the scattered clips and held it up.  It gleamed in the dim light.

“I’ve never seen bullets like these.”

Guys stared intently down the hall.  “You wouldn’t.  They’re specially designed for maximum damage to the Others.  Tip is iron.  Casing is filled with a blend of garlic, silver nitrate, crushed holly, and salt.  A lethal cocktail for just about any manifestation.”

He wiped his blade with one of the lab towels.  “Just like this blade.  Iron, not steel.  The Others would just laugh off steel.”

Fran set the bullet on the counter.  Her hands trembled.  “It’s just… so much to grasp, you know?  Just this morning I came to work, just another day, and now…”  She gestured uselessly.

Michael picked up a large hammer from a tool bag on the counter.  He peered down the hallway alongside Guy.  “I know.  Seems like a lifetime ago.”  He looked at Guy.  “That’s it, right?  That’s all of them?”

Guy methodically reloaded his shotgun.  “No.”

Drake’s head swiveled wildly.  “Whaddya mean,
no
?”

“The Others will be back.  They know we can hurt them, so they fell back to regroup.  But they’ll keep coming until they get what they want.”

“What the hell do they want?”

Guy sheathed the blade.  “I’m afraid it’s me that they want.”

“What… what are you talking about?”

Guy sighed.  “These minions aren’t all that intelligent.  They’re simply hounds.  All they know is that
one
of us here is a threat to them.”

The rest of them exchanged frightened glances.

“So you’re saying…”

“They don’t know which one of us is the threat.  They’ll keep coming in waves until they kill everyone in the building.” 

They all paused at the thought.

Michael cleared his throat.  “So… what do we have to do?”

“Stay close to me.  I’m sorry that you got caught up in this.  We have to move.  It’s not safe here.”

Fran looked up.  “It’s not safe
anywhere
, if you’re telling the truth.”