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Inferno - Chapter 5: Approaching Perdition
Posted By: Skul<skulkrusha2000@hotmail.com>
Date: 6 October 2006, 12:40 am
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1022 hours, June 12, 2553 (Military Calendar) / Fire Base Bravo Foxtrot, Planet Earth
"My God, what happened to him?" asked Doctor Neil Graves as two marines brought Erim 'Strenbilee's cold, stiff body inside the medical lab on a stretcher, followed by Sergeant Hill.
"Lay him down on this table," ordered the doctor, motioning towards a large, metal table in the centre of the room. Above the table was an adjustable fixture with a ring of six bright, circular lights.
The two marines hefted Erim's heavy corpse from the stretcher onto the table and then stood, awaiting orders.
"You're dismissed, marines," said Hill.
"Yes, sir!" the two marines answered in unison before leaving the medical lab, but not without a backward glance at the lifeless body lying on the cold table, the orange eyes dark and staring.
Doctor Graves hadn't gotten a proper look at the cadaver. When his eyes focused on the body, he stiffened at the sight. Erim's chest cavity had been ripped apart, exposing his purple innards, spattered with congealed blood.
The doctor and the Sergeant both stood for long moments, neither speaking.
Finally, Hill said what they were both thinking, "I heard something like this happened over at Fire Base Alpha Tango Omega a couple of miles north-east of here. A young marine by the name of Gerry Taylor."
"Yes, I heard that, too. Nasty business," replied Graves, "Apparently, that place has been covered in some kind of black slime."
"Yeah, nobody wants go near it. They get terrified going anywhere near the place. What do you think's going on?" asked Hill.
"I have absolutely no idea," the doctor responded, "but I hope to find out by examining this body, assuming the cause of death is related to Private Taylor's. With all due respect, Sergeant, could you please leave?"
"Of course."
Hill turned fully on his heels and walked out of the medical lab, leaving Graves to himself.
Slightly adjusting the angle of the overhead lights, Graves bent over Erim's cold body and examined the inside of the alien warrior. The doctor leaned in closer as something caught his eye. Something very black and with a slight shine. It appeared to be a thick liquid, like blood, and was oozing its way from behind the large Sangheili heart. As he watched, the ooze crept sinuously over and even through organs and bones.
Graves stood watching, transfixed. He had a feeling he knew what the black substance was. Thoughts of the Fire Base he had discussed only moments ago were going through his mind, and he knew that he should do something, but he found himself unable to move. He stood, watching the substance start to fill up the body, as if someone was pouring it into the corpse.
There came a harsh, strangled noise from Erim's throat. Graves gasped and turned his head to look towards the source of the sound. Erim's four mandibles were slowly curling in and out and his right hand, started to twitch.
Erim's orange eyes closed and then flashed open. Before Graves could stumble back, the Sangheili's powerful hand reached out and grabbed the doctor by the neck, choking him. Erim's right arm cocked back and then thrust forward, throwing Graves into the clean steel wall, buckling it. Erim's natural strength, coupled with the new ungodly power, made him as strong as, if not more than, a Jiralhanae.
Winded and injured, Graves lay slumped against the cold wall, stars bursting in his vision. Through the disorientation, he saw Erim begin to sit up, his reanimated body rising slowly, stiffly.
His vision cleared, but still short of breath, Graves feebly tried to move, but his injured back and lack of oxygen stopped him before he could make any significant progress. Not that he would have escaped, as Erim was now making his way towards the doctor, the orange eyes still dead, giving Erim the expressionless face of a zombie. Graves saw organs inside the Sangheili bouncing and wobbling horribly, organs that humans have no name for, ones unique to Sangheili physiology.
Erim's heavy shadow fell over the doctor, who did not dare look up. He could smell the decomposing flesh, the stench of decay and death. Through his fear, Graves thought it strange that the body should be decomposing so quickly.
Erim made a strange choking noise deep in his long throat, a sound so strange that Graves looked up involuntarily. The doctor stared in horror at a large growth in Erim's body. A large glob of black ooze was now bulging out of the Sangheili's chest, the same ooze that he had seen crawling through the alien warrior's body. The thought of that thick, black substance flooding Erim's corpse was sickening.
The doctor froze as he saw Erim reach down. The tall Sangheili lifted the doctor by the scruff of his lab coat and brought his head level with the black ooze still bulging from the chest cavity. Sensing the reanimated corpse's intent, Graves struggled to free himself from the solid grip Erim's dead hand had on him.
Erim – the thing that used to be Erim – watched the doctor struggle futilely for a few moments and then thrust Graves' head deep into the thick, growing slime protruding from his open chest.
Graves flailed his arms and legs wildly, attempting to free himself from the ooze that was entering his body, suffocating him, but Erim held him fast.
The dead Sangheili stared, unmoving, as the doctor's struggles became weaker and slower until they finally stopped. The doctor's body collapsed loosely, his arms swaying slightly from momentum after falling limply.
Erim tugged the corpse out of the swelling ooze and studied him through dark eyes. The doctor's mouth was agape and filled with the black slime. More of it clogged up his nostrils and ears. Graves' dark brown eyes were bulging out, being pushed from behind by the malicious substance. The ooze had entered every orifice, crack and opening of the doctor's head to enter his body.
Without changing expression, Erim unceremoniously dropped the bloated corpse of Doctor Graves and turned towards the door, still moving slowly and stiffly.
Private Robert Lear was nearing the medical lab, nursing a stinging cut on his left palm. He had unthinkingly picked up his combat knife by the blade as he was preparing for a close-combat exercise. The blade was clean and didn't bite too deeply, but it was bleeding. The tissue he had used to staunch the wound was already soaked through, but he kept pressure on the cut, nonetheless.
The door to the medical lab opened. Lear stopped and gasped at the sight of Erim stepping out, a black mass bulging from his chest.
"Holy shit! What…?" the young marine was speechless.
Erim turned at the sound of Lear's awe-struck voice.
"Hhhol' ssshhhii…'" the tall Sangheili repeated in a droning, lazy voice.
The Sangheili began walking towards Lear, advancing on him quickly, the stiffness in his limbs melting away.
"Hey… hey, stay away!" stammered Lear, stepping backwards. He intended to turn and run, but the sight of Erim walking quickly towards him, expressionless, instilled fear, which sent his thoughts into disarray.
Erim's strong hand reached out and grasped Lear's right shoulder as the Sangheili repeated the Private's words, "Ssstayway…"
Wide-eyed, the young marine was hurled into the wall to his right, dazing him. He numbly felt his left hand being lifted up. A sharp, electric pain brought him to his senses. He looked and saw Erim's long tongue licking the salty blood from the wound.
Trying without any success to wrench his hand out of Erim's grip, Lear yelled in pain, "What the fuck are you doing!"
Erim snarled at him, mandibles splayed open, silencing the human.
Dropping the stinging hand, which the young Private instantly stuck under his right armpit. He had seen that the wound had started bleeding heavily, again and he had nothing else on hand to wrap it in, nor the time to.
Lear scrambled to his feet and pushed off the wall, away from Erim, who had remained crouched and was now only watching the marine. Lear didn't look back; he just wanted to get far away from the Sangheili as possible.
When he was certain Erim wasn't following him, Private Lear leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. He brought his hand out from under his armpit and saw red smears of his own blood spread all over his palm. Looking at the cut, his heart skipped a few beats and he brought his hand closer to his face to get a better look. The cut was quickly turning black like it had an infection. Lear let out a few terrified whimpers as it consumed the rest of his hand, making it look like he was wearing a single black glove. The infection slithered along his arm, moving in no great hurry.
A bearded Corporal, Ian Dalton, emerged from a nearby armoury, carrying an MA5C. He looked over at Lear first in confusion, then in shock. Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, the Corporal hurried towards the panicking young marine.
"What is that?" asked Dalton, referring to the black ooze that had now disappeared under Lear's sleeve.
"Dunno, dunno!" cried Lear, not daring to touch the strange substance.
The Corporal did not feel the same way and reached over, intending to try and remove what looked to him simply like wet mud.
"Don't touch it!" warned Lear, snatching his hand away.
The Corporal looked at him for a moment, and then retracted his arm.
"Let's get you to medical," said Dalton, taking the Private's uncovered arm.
"No! There's… an Elite's there. It attacked me!"
Dalton's gaze darkened. He had never trusted the Ex-Coves.
"Don't worry, I'll handle it," he said.
"No, it's… this shit was growing out of its chest!" said Lear, indicating the ooze.
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't know what it is. I just saw this black blob hanging out! I don't think the Elite knew what it was doing. It was like it was in a trance, or something."
"Well, I'll shake it out of its trance," replied the Corporal, drawing his M7A sidearm.
The Private's eyes widened at the sight of the pistol, but he said nothing. The two began walking towards the medical lab.
The entity that used to be Erim 'Strenbilee walked away from the medical lab in the opposite direction of Private Lear. He had done what he had wanted to the human. Now all he had to do was create the second Gatepost. But first, he felt the need to do one final action.
Sergeant Masters, walking down the empty corridors, could hear a soft, rhythmic slapping sound. He neared a T-junction and was able to determine that the sound was coming from the left-hand corridor. He was going to head down the right-hand junction, but decided to obey his curiosity and investigate.
Smoothing back his short brown hair, the Sergeant rounded the corner and almost walked straight into a tall Sangheili warrior. Masters fell back several steps after seeing the huge blob of blackness growing out of the alien warrior's chest. Masters looked into the dead face of Erim and recognised the Sangheili from last night.
"Shit, what happened to you?" asked Masters.
"Ssshhhi, wha' hap' 'oo…" murmured Erim in response.
"Don't play games with me, freak!"
"Dun plah gims, freh…" repeated Erim; walking towards the Sergeant, who refused to show the fear he was feeling.
"What the hell do you want?" asked Masters, managing to keep the quiver out of his voice, "Is it about me bumping your shoulders? Geez, get over it! And what the hell is that stuff comin' out your chest? Is this a trick?"
Erim raised his arms and stretched them out towards Masters.
"Keep your dirty hands to yourself, squid-face!" growled the Sergeant.
Erim lunged towards Masters and grabbed him by the throat, choking him. The marine clawed at the hands that were slowly crushing his windpipe.
Erim's right hand let go of the Sergeant's throat and snaked around to grasp the back of his head. The Sangheili then cupped his other hand under the human's jaw. Masters eyes widened in fear. He knew what Erim was preparing to do. The Sergeant struggled in the powerful grip and started beating on Erim, punching and kicking. Erim's left hand, clamped under his jaw, kept him from yelling for help.
Masters was silenced instantly when Erim's muscular arms twisted his head sharply, breaking the frail neck. Erim held the marine's head for a moment longer, the body swinging loosely below it, before releasing his grip.
The broad-shouldered marine collapsed like a wet sack and fell forward on his chest, his tongue poking out of the open mouth.
Expressionlessly, Erim knelt down next to Masters.
Corporal Dalton and Private Lear cautiously approached the medical lab, looking all around them for any sign of the Sangheili warrior. Lear could feel the ooze spreading across his chest. He felt like a thousand ants were crawling over his skin and he shifted uncomfortably.
"You alright?" asked Dalton.
"I think so," the young Private replied, "it's just this stuff just feels really weird."
Lear had several urges to scratch and rub the tingling areas of his body, but he repressed them, not wanting to disturb the thick, black ooze.
The two marines stopped near the medical lab's door. Dalton looked up and down the corridor one more time before approaching the lab's door, which hissed open as he drew near. Inside the sterile room, Dalton saw nothing. There were no signs of a struggle and no traces of blood that he could see. The only thing that caught his eye was the back wall, which was slightly buckled, as if something had bashed into it.
Dalton stepped inside the threshold to get a better look at both the windowless, yet bright room and the depression in the metal wall.
He had gone only three steps when Lear cried out in pain. Dalton jumped and turned to look at the Private. Lear was holding his forearm, looking at his infected hand with an agonised expression. The hand was shaking and had gone into a claw shape, looking like a spider that had descended from its web to grasp something between its hairy legs.
"What's wrong?" asked Dalton in a concerned tone.
"Dunno!" Lear cried, panicking. He twitched and his face twisted into a mask of rage for a moment, a small, throaty growl accompanying it, and then his features flicked back to pain and fear.
Dalton felt a presence behind him, but before he could turn, he was hit between the shoulder blades with a solid, heavy object.
He fell forward, and managed to catch himself with his hands just before he hit the floor, sending stinging pains through his palms.
Rolling onto his back, he saw Doctor Graves, who had been hiding in the medical lab, standing posed with a fire extinguisher, ready to bring it down onto the Corporal's chest. Dalton rolled again as Graves lifted the heavy object higher. The fire extinguisher slammed down with a solid bang right where Dalton had been lying moments before.
The doctor looked up at Lear who started at the bloated features of the doctor, eyes bulging from their sockets, nostrils blown open, revealing bone and muscle. His face muscles had slackened, making the doctor look older than he actually was. Graves hissed at Lear, the teeth almost translucent, and took a step towards him, but stopped and turned his attention back to Dalton, who was now getting up.
The Corporal got to his feet slowly. The place where Graves had struck him with the fire extinguisher hurt abominably.
There came a shout from further down the corridor. Dalton glanced down the hall and saw someone running towards him. He didn't have time for more than a cursory glance, as the doctor was coming at him again, fire extinguisher raised to waist level.
Dalton, thinking quickly, lowered his shoulder and launched himself into Graves. The two men went down, the impact causing a jolt of pain to shoot through Dalton's back. Ignoring the pain in his back the best he could, the Corporal picked himself up quickly and kicked the fire extinguisher out of Graves' hand. The red cylinder rolled down the hall and came to a stop next to two pipes running from the floor up to the ceiling.
The marine who Dalton saw further down the hall was now at the scene.
"What's going on?" asked the marine.
"No idea," replied Dalton, "Private Lear over there has some kind of black goo all over him and Doctor Graves… hell, I don't know what's up with him."
Graves was on his feet again, but he stumbled sideways and caught himself on a wall. His translucent teeth were bared and his cheeks sagged, almost making him look like a half-human bulldog. The bulldog pushed off the wall and came at the newcomer, arms outstretched. The marine yelled as the doctor tried to grab his short blond hair. The pale hands were not able to get a grip and the blond marine took the chance to shove the doctor away from him.
Dalton glanced over at Lear and saw that the young marine was shaking violently; the black ooze had entered his mouth, which now hung open, and was making its way down his throat. His eyes had rolled back in his head, showing only the whites and he sounded as if he were choking.
Dalton hurried over to help Lear, but when the Corporal neared, Lear closed his mouth and his eyes rolled down until they stared straight ahead. Dalton was confused by this sudden transformation and he frowned at the black ooze still seeping between Lear's slightly open lips.
There was a thump to Dalton's right, followed by an airy moan. He glanced over and saw Doctor Graves lying on his back, felled by a punch thrown by the blond marine. Dalton strained to see the nametag on Blond's uniform, but the tag was too small to read.
There was a blur of movement and Dalton felt a heavy weight smash into his left ear. He fell back a few steps, slightly dazed, with one hand shot up to the side of his head. There was a loud, one-note whine screaming in his ear. Dalton briefly visualised it as a bright, white light filling his ear hole. He came back to his senses, quickly, the whine still singing as loud as ever and saw Lear coming towards him, teeth bared, growling like an angry animal.
Lear had punched him, Dalton knew, but what he didn't know was why. The same question was with Graves, who Blond was now grappling with and losing to.
The Private launched another fist at Dalton and caught him on the nose, breaking it. In addition to the whining, a faint buzzing also filled Dalton's head for a brief moment. Blood trickled from Dalton's nostrils, but he had no time to do anything, as Lear came at him again, both arms raised over his head, hands clasped, making him look like a celebrating champion.
A hammer punch, thought Dalton. A second after that thought crossed his mind, Lear brought his fists down, stepping forward to increase the range. Dalton stepped back, causing blood to fall down his throat and he gagged on it, coughing. Lear's attack missed the Corporal by a few inches and sent the Private off-balance. Dalton brought his knee up and it connected with Lear's face, flooring him.
Dalton looked over at Blond and Graves. The doctor had managed to get Blond down on one knee, but both of them were still grappling. The doctor lifted his head up, not to look at Dalton, but rather down the hallway where a figure was slowly approaching.
Blond seized the opportunity for an advantage and pushed against Graves, making the doctor stumbled back. Expecting Graves to come back at him, the blond marine was surprised when Graves continued to look past him. Blond glanced down the hall and saw the approaching figure. It was a Sangheili warrior. The marine cautiously positioned himself so that he could keep both Graves and the Sangheili in sight.
Dalton looked down at Lear, still on the floor and noticed that the Private, too, was watching the tall form walking towards them.
The Corporal's jaw dropped when he saw the black, slimy substance bulging from the Sangheili's chest. It was then he remembered Lear saying something about an Elite with black ooze growing out of its chest.
Stopping a few feet from the small group, Erim's gaze swept over each one of them after which, he closed his eyes. For long moments, there was no movement from any of the five assembled. No sounds apart from the rattling wheeze of breath from Graves, who, along with Lear, was still looking at Erim expectantly.
The orange eyes slowly opened and Erim smiled a grisly smile. Then, in a voice that was not his own, he spoke.
"Incendia Abyssus mos exuro vos!"
The smile disappeared, and his eyes closed. Erim doubled over and the black ooze bellowed out and massed on the floor. Erim's corpse fell forward and landed face-first into the ooze, which then devoured his body whole. It then started on the base, multiplying itself constantly, feeding off anything and everything.
Graves crawled towards the substance and watched dumbly as it snaked up his arms and consumed his body.
Breaking out of their fear, Dalton and the blond marine ran to warn the others, Blond stopping slightly to trip the base's alarm system.
Lear stared at the ooze climbing up his legs. He was, as yet, not too far-gone and knew there was something about the black substance slowly creeping up him that was not right. Unable to move, Lear could do nothing but stand and wait for the ooze to cover him completely. He felt no pain, no fear. His mind went blank and he stared, catatonic, unseeing, at the remains of Erim's corpse.
Eventually, the ooze engulfed him.
It moved with a calm slowness, sneaking into rooms and through corridors. The nightmarish black ooze claimed the base tile-by-tile, room-by-room. Anyone who found themselves caught in its grasp screamed in agony, the black substance eating them slowly, so slowly, melting flesh and muscle and dissolving bone.
Through the pain, terrible voices were heard more in the soul than in the mind, images no horror movie could hope to produce flooded into one's thoughts. What they felt was true fear – and it's much worse than anyone can describe.
Corporal James Peterson sat alone in the cafeteria, which was still a mess from last night's earthquake. He had been told about Erim's passing and was struggling to cope with the fact. The Corporal had gone numb at the news; it didn't seem real that his Sangheili friend had died.
As he sat, thinking absently with a cooling cup of coffee in front of him, he dully heard the shouts of other marines. Slowly looking up, he saw males and females of all races, human, Unggoy and Sangheili running by the cafeteria doors, the Unggoy squealing in their high-pitched voices. A moment later, the alarm blared, jolting Peterson out of his trance-like state.
One marine running past the door stopped, backtracked and looked in at Peterson.
"Hey! You! Get outta there!" the marine jerked his thumb in the direction he had been running, "Move!"
"What's going on?" asked Peterson, but the marine had already disappeared.
Hurrying to the doorway, he looked out into the hall. It was empty. Shaking his head in confusion, Peterson ran towards the main entrance, not seeing the black ooze slowly creeping around a bend behind him.
It wasn't long until the firebase was completely covered in a thick, black blanket. Actions had been taken to try and stop or slow down the ooze, but as with Fire Base Alpha Tango Omega , all attempts were unsuccessful. The two-hundred-and-two remaining occupants – marines, Sangheili and Unggoy – watched with stunned horror as the base was consumed.
Feeling the cold hands of fear touching them, clutching at their souls, sharp nails of pain digging in, the beings assembled stumbled back, their eyes still on the fire base, which pulsed like a living thing, and ran.
Their running was to be in vain.
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