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Episode
045 |
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“If we’re still alive tomorrow,
we’ll know we didn’t die.” Stan Marsh, The
SUV’s powerful engine came to a quiet stop.
Against the silence of the factory gates, its quieting motor sounded
like a single last gasp of life. The
four doors opened and the five Responders got out. From the driver’s door, Alex looked up at
the sky, seeing the draining sun that was disappearing behind the tree
line. He looked next to him as Til
stepped out of the way for Jason. On
the other side, Irene stared fearfully at the factory while Isaiah moved to
the back. Opening the rear hatch, the sniper
began to drag the equipment out of the back, dropping it to the soft ground
beneath his feet. As Til came to join
him, the glow of on-coming headlamps lit up the world, preceding the hum of a
patrol car’s motor. Alex came around to the back of
the SUV as a police car came to a stop just behind them. The police chief stepped out, the cigarette
in his mouth already lit. “<You’re
really going through with this?>” he asked in disbelief. “<We’ll take care of this
thing,>” Alex said directly. “<And taking care of it means
camping out here overnight?>” the chief asked. “<If needs be,>” Til said
with a grunt as he hoisted down a heavy bag. The chief gave Til an annoyed
look, but then shook his head, turning to get back into his car. “<Your funeral,>” he said just before
shutting the door. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Irene growled as the chief drove away.
“Does he really expect us to just sit back and not do anything?” “Since we’re not German,” Isaiah
said to her, picking up one of the bags and heading into the factory, “that’s
exactly what he expects.” Next to him,
Til said nothing. Til and Isaiah led the way into
the factory room, carrying heavy bags under their arms. Irene and Jason came in behind them, both
sharing apprehensive looks as they glanced around. It was a thick metal room with machine
interfaces on the far side. There were
only two tiny windows that were to either side of the thick metal door. “This room looks like a trap,” Jason
exclaimed. “It’s not,” Isaiah said
nonchalantly as he unzipped his bag.
Inside, the frames for four cots fell out. “This room may be the most secure in the
factory. At least, with regards to
finding the beast.” He looked up at
the walls. “See how thick those
are? Til and I found no evidence that
the thing ever sliced through walls that thick.” “It may simply not have tried,”
Irene argued. “Maybe,” Isaiah allowed, setting
up the first cot. “But that doesn’t
mean it’s not our best bet.” Outside, Alex stood on the
catwalk, a heavy-duty cell phone held to his ear. “Say again?” he asked, holding his left
hand to his ear. “I said,” came Jin’s voice in
sporadic crackles of static, “this thing is going to come at you guys as soon
as night falls. The louder you are,
the sooner it’s going to attack.” “How do you know?” Alex asked. “I don’t,” Jin said. “But it’s the best clue we’ve got.” “What clue?” Alex exclaimed. But all he got was static. He looked at the phone and shook his head
in frustration, clicking it off as he headed into the room. Inside, the four cots were almost made up
as Jason hung wooden charms with Celtic and Japanese symbols on the four
walls. “Well, according to our
brilliant home base, before they cut off because of the approaching storm
front, this thing is drawn to noise and, particularly, merriment.” “Well, why don’t I just play a few
tunes on my lute and we can sit around and sing songs for a good harvest,”
Isaiah posed sarcastically, putting together the final cot. “I want two of you guys to head
back to the truck and get the rest of the bags,” Alex insisted. “I want this room fortified before dark.” “Too late,” called Jason. Alex turned to him as the psychic stood in
the doorway, watching the quickly darkening sky. His eyes scanned the factory as he
scrutinized the metal world. “If we
don’t get out of here right now, this thing’s going to get to us.” “That’s the idea,” Til said,
standing. He chambered a round in his
pistol and slipped it into the holster on small of his back. “Irene and I will go for the rest of the
bags.” “We need to stay together,” Jason
exclaimed. “Calm down, scaredy cat,” Irene
joked, heading out the door. “We’ll be
back in just a few…” Stepping out onto
the catwalk, the entire metal walkway gave way. Collapsing onto the gravel ground with a
roar of steel thunder, the catwalk folded up in on itself as Irene fell into
the middle of the debris. “Irene!” Alex yelled, rushing to
the doorway with Jason. But as he
spoke, a deep-seated roar came echoing within the factory. His head turned into the depths of the
factory to hear a second roar, filled with rage and violent anger. He looked down at Irene, then at the metal
supports that had held up the catwalk.
Perfectly severed, they had been sliced clean. “It was a trap,” he breathed. “Told ya!” Jason yelled back at
Til and Isaiah. “Til!” Alex shouted just before
stepping out onto the broken catwalk, getting a careful foothold and
beginning to climb down. Til watched
him get a few lengths down and he started down as well, climbing down a
different support. On the ground, Irene began to
rouse. She sat up on her elbows,
wincing as blood dripped from the cuts and scrapes across her body. She shook her head, trying to fling away
the daze that had a hold of her. The
rupture of a third scream caused her to jolt back to awareness. She looked up, her eyes filling with fear
as she stared down the mainway of the factory. “Irene!” Alex yelled desperately, still
halfway up the wall. But she didn’t
hear him. Panic and horror took a hold
of her and she threw herself to her feet, running for all she was worth. “Irene!
No!” Alex yelled even as she disappeared into the factory. “Damn it!” he cursed. He looked down at the ground and closed his
eyes. “One. Two.
Three!” He threw himself away
from the wall, falling the last half-dozen feet onto the exposed steel of the
debris-strewn mainway. He landed on
his feet and fell back. As he started
to get up, Til landed next to him.
Grabbing Alex’s arms, he pulled him to his feet. “Come on!” Alex said, turning to sprint
after Irene. Til followed closely
behind. Isaiah leaned out of the doorway, looking down at
the debris and then into the distance.
In the dim illumination of the factory’s nighttime lights, he caught
the last signs of a shape rushing off down another path, following parallel
to the others. “Did you see it?” Jason
asked, leaning out as well. “Come on!” Isaiah said, rushing out of the room. Irene rushed through the tight
spaces of the factory, the smell of rust mixing with the thoughts of blood
she couldn’t escape. She finally came
to a stop, frantically yanking out her pistol. She quickly turned the flashlight on and
aimed the gun away from her, sweeping it around in the darkness. The movement of the light beam sent shadows
scattering off the metal world while her desperate swirling footsteps kicked
gravel into the metal walls, making her jump even more. Alex leapt up onto a ladder, pausing
as his slightly higher vantage let him see down the path a bit clearer. He looked down at Til and shook his
head. Til put his finger to his
earpiece. “Irene?” he called. No response came. “Jason?
Isaiah? Anyone?” He looked up at Alex. “No luck.” “Figures,” Alex grumbled. He dropped down and swept his pistol
forward, the light of the flashlight keeping compact in a tight beam. Irene fell onto her knees. Gasping, she froze on the ground, her
pistol between her fallen hands. She
clamped her eyes shut, forcing her tears from coming. She grabbed handfuls of gravel, as if using
the texture to force her mind to calm.
With each breath, her shaking shoulders smoothed just slightly. Her jaw quaked as she fought for
control. “Its okay,” she breathed. She opened her eyes, the fear
evident behind the walls of control.
She picked up her pistol and slowly rose to her feet. She squeezed the handle of the gun, feeling
its solidarity and strength. She took
another breath and looked around. The path she was in was long and
narrow, with no real diversion save the exits far off in both
directions. Metal machinations jutted
out from the steel walls, but there was no appreciable place to find shelter
or escape. The hairs on the back of her neck
stood up. She lifted her head, struggling to
keep from losing control. She took a
breath, fighting to keep her wits about her.
“Alex,” she whispered.
“Isaiah. Til.” She turned as she spoke, glancing down the
narrow path. Against the lights of the factory,
she could see something between her and the exit. Unable to discern any features, all she
could see, all she fixated on, was the pair of glowing eyes. Standing far above her own head, the pair
of eyes gazed at her, their darkness puncturing through the blackness of the
nighttime. She could feel movement. She could feel the heat, even across the
yards between them, as it opened its mouth.
She could sense rather than see the long, sharp teeth as its leathery
tongue worked over its lips in delight. She heard movement. It
started towards her. Its
foot stepped down, crunching the gravel as it made for her. She held up her pistol. She took aim. She squeezed the trigger. It
swung its arm. A
flash of blackness like its eyes swung through her gun. The gun disintegrated in her hands. It fell in pieces at her feet. She looked up at it. Just
inches from her, it looked down at her. She could hear its breath. There was a gunshot. The shot ripped through the
monster’s right chest, knocking it back.
Irene’s awareness was jerked back as she whirled around in the
direction the shot had come from.
Across the long distance between her and the towering train drop
almost out of sight, she could see Isaiah kneeling on the railing, his sniper
rifle aimed and ready. He looked through the scope, this
time settling his sights right between the creature’s black eyes. He closed his hand around the rifle’s grip
and squeezed the trigger. With
practically no recoil, the gun barely made a whisper. The sound of tearing paper rocketed through
the air as another shot followed the first, this time landing into the hard
gravel. Irene turned back as the monster
moved for her. But at the last second,
Jason tackled her to the ground, both of them narrowly dodging the monster’s
attack. Irene slid across the gravel
into the steel wall as Jason came back up.
The monster turned around to him, swinging with its right arm. Jason threw up his hand, his eyes igniting
with power. It was cold in the video-editing
studio. The only light came from the wall of screens just
above the controls. Sitting in a
plastic studio chair, Jason stared at the equipment. In front of an elaborate set-up with
multiple VCRs, DVD players, and a host of other video materials, he quickly
began to bring the machine to life. On
the screens before him, he saw the monster, glaring at him and roaring with
all its might. Frantic, but calm, he
began to grab at DVDs and tapes that were scattered over the console. He slipped a DVD disc into the player
and hit play. Instantly, one of the
screens switched from the monster to a recording of an Indian wedding. Boisterous and colorful, the crisp video
and flawless sound drowned out the monster.
Jason kept looking and he put in another DVD. This time, it was of a Little League
Baseball game. He started playing it,
quickly fast-forwarding to the triumphant celebration at the end. He glanced to the spare screens, watching
as the monster tried to back away. He
started to dig around for more tapes. Alex swept into the narrow walkway
first, his pistol ready. Behind him,
Til came in, his ready as well. As
they came in, Alex’s hand shot out, stopping Til. They both stood absolutely still as they
stared in awe at the sight. The monster towered over Jason,
growling in anger and rage. But it was
frozen still in petrified hesitation.
Alex glanced at Irene, able to see her at Jason’s feet, cowering in
horror at the sight of the monster that loomed over her, only Jason between
the two. Alex waited for a moment longer,
then heard a vicious roar form the beast.
It took a step towards Jason.
He stared up at it, undaunted, but clearly frightened. Alex turned back around to the train drop,
to where Isaiah waited. He held up his
hand, then closed it demonstratively, pointing at the monster. Isaiah lowered his gaze into the sights of
his rifle. Using Jason as a reference,
he lined up his shot with the back of the monster’s head. He took a calming breath and took a careful
hold of the rifle’s handle, squeezing the trigger. |
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