CHAPTER 1:
ISOLATION.
It was a silent night, but not a peaceful, or holy night, since nobody was sleeping well, and those who were, had been subject to something that certainly was not holy. There was no human warmth in the halls of what was once the Roanoke II colony, even in the areas where the light of human existence stubbornly held on. It was as cold as the surface of the planet in which it was laid to rest upon, with its great blizzards and icy, permafrost surface. The once grandiose colony, a symbol of new beginnings for the colonists that had taken up residence there, was now a titanic derelict, laying lifeless like the corpse of a titan.
Within its decaying cadaver lay a labyrinth of hallways and tunnels, like slithering intestines, flowing through its body, its walls covered in pipes, wires and valves, some of the last remaining signs of human presence inside the deceased metropolis. Many of these lay burst open, bleeding their gaseous innards out into the corridors, enveloping them in a deathly mist and hiding the horrors that lurked within. There certainly were many horrors that lay within the walls of the former colony, now death trap. Horrors that had once been hidden away in their box, but that the colonists, taking the form of the young, naive Pandora, had opened and unleashed upon themselves.
Yet, at the bottom of Pandora’s box there lay hope, still shining through. Once again, hope remained at the heart of Roanoke II, but one that was day-by-day slowly dwindling. Encircled with demons once thought to be only of myth, it was no longer a matter of if, but of when, the last remnants of humanity on LV-269 would finally be extinguished. Within the first and second sectors of the colony remained the final 54 of the original 548 that had been sent to Roanoke. What had happened to the rest? They had suffered a terrible fate, a fate more horrific, more gruesome than any of us could imagine, a horror that was beyond what we could find here on Earth, even in our planet’s darkest reaches. Something that cannot simply be described, since the mere concept is so alien to us. It was a fate none of them could have predicted falling into. How could they, when for all they knew they were the first to encounter these mysterious devils that were neither man nor machine?
Such thoughts chewed away at Graymalkin’s mind as he readied himself for his deadly mission. Going into enemy territory was a highly dangerous task, regardless of the situation, but when one’s opponent just so happens to be an unknown, highly dangerous organism, well, that certainly does not aid the situation. Graymalkin knew this well; he had after all, not been the first to go out on such scavenging missions. Once someone had gone out on a ‘helldive’ as they liked to call it, they would either completely refuse to go out on a second, or not be alive for a second. He did not even blame them; while he had very little experience with ‘the devil’s cockroaches’ as they were known to the colonists, that alone had proved enough for him. He knew how fast they were, how strong they were, how tough they were...and how deadly they were. Even armed, he still felt like a lamb wandering foolishly into a lion’s den.
Slowly, the first of the great doors that shielded them from the demon’s lair slowly slid away, its gears creaking and crashing as it did so. Slowly, the three men stepped into ‘the gateway to hell’ and stood there in the dark, waiting to descend further into the dead paradise. Graymalkin took a moment to observe his companions, two older men who had clearly seen more than they had wanted to of the demons. Coombe was not the slightest bit discreet when it came to his fear, wearing it shamelessly on his face as he gulped air and prepared for their dive. Roberts, on the other hand, was able to steel his aging face, but even that could not fool the observant view, as a glimpse into his eyes exposed the anxiety and tension within. The situation felt so foolhardy and pointless that Graymalkin could not help but morbidly laugh at how they had been arranged. They’ll have me as the starter, then Coombe for the main course, and then Roberts for dessert, his mind sneered.
At that moment, a voice came on over the radio. A familiar voice to Graymalkin, that of a young woman, a young woman very near and dear to his heart. Through the crackling of static and distortion, her voice timidly rang out, calling ‘Graymalkin, Coombe, Roberts, do you copy.’ ‘Aye’ each of them responded. ‘Loud and clear.’
‘The package we’re looking for is located in the technician's office, towards the back of sector 3. It’s an orange briefcase on the workbench in the office of a Mr Townley. You’ll know it when you see it.’
‘Roger that, Hapley.’ Graymalkin replied. ‘Opposite the old medical bay?’
‘Yes. Exercise high caution.’
‘Roger. Hey Cassie?’
‘Yes?’
‘It’s okay. I’ll be fine.’
‘Okay Cal. Just please promise me that.’
‘I’m a man of my word Cassie. I intend to keep that.’
‘You better.’
Back at the second sector, Hapley placed the radio receiver onto the handle as she observed Graymalkin’s team entering the third sector through the cameras. To her, it did not matter how much training anyone had, nobody should be even stepping a foot in the territory of those forsaken...things. She too, had experience with them. She had the scars on both her body and her mind to prove it as well. Her once luscious, dark, flowing hair had knotted from stress, and her once glowing chestnut eyes had dimmed out of despair. Her pale skin, once clean and immaculate, had been torn, shrivelled and beaten to the point where it now resembled a dead body. She might as well have been dead. She certainly felt that way. That was why she clang onto Graymalkin. He was the last flame in the dying candle of the colony, the last one who seemed to have a shred of life to him. If something were to happen to him...
Steeling her eyes, Hapley focused her vision towards the crackling monitors depicting the camera feed, grumbling about the fact that if only Weyland-Yutani had given the colony a higher budget, maybe they could afford actually reliable technology, instead of all the old crap they had been given. ‘See anything yet?’ she asked the older, bearded man beside her, who too had his eyes fixated on the screens, observing them intently. ‘No.’ he gently spoke, shaking his head slowly in denial. ‘Not yet at least.’
‘Hope that’s a no for the rest of the mission.’
‘You have to be realistic Hapley. Every time we send someone out, they come. Always.’
‘(Whispering) Please just this once...’
‘He’ll be fine. Graymalkin’s a tough kid. And I know Coombe and Roberts are well-prepared. It’ll all go smoothly; don’t you worry my dear.’
‘Thanks Dr Holmes.’
But deep in his mind, Holmes knew that it was not to be. Even though he could not tell if they had eyes, Holmes knew that the creatures could detect humans extraordinarily well, better than any lifeform he had ever seen. Their arrival was not a matter of if, but of when.
At that point, Hapley’s thoughts were interrupted by a gentle tug on her arm. For the fifth time today, she thought to herself. Turning around, wearing her annoyance on her face, she locked eyes with a small, innocent 10-year-old boy, with short dark hair and glowing eyes. ‘What do you want Timmy?’ she sighed. ‘I’m hungry.’ he complained. ‘When are we going to eat?’
‘In a minute. I’m busy right now.’
‘But I’m so hungry.’
‘And I’m so busy’
‘What are you even doing that’s so important.’
‘Helping Graymalkin out. Now go bother someone else.’
‘You mean your boyfriend?’
‘I said go bother someone else.’
‘Obviously, since he’s so much more important to you than me.’
Hapley was already on edge, what with Graymalkin’s dangerous mission and the nature of the entire situation, and Tim had just proved to be the final spark that blew her fuse. Having finally lost the last sliver of patience she had, she screamed at him to go ‘Piss someone else off.’ ‘Mind your language.’ he sarcastically snarled as he wandered away. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, Hapley slumped forward onto the desk, like a discarded towel.
It was at that moment Hapley saw Holmes stir. First, his gaze steeled, then his hand raised, pointing a single finger at the monitor. ‘There.’ he dryly spat. Hapley darted at the monitor like a heron to its prey, hoping to catch even the slightest glimpse. And catch a glimpse she did. Although it was too quick for her to observe it any good, she was at least able to capture that all familiar shape, one that seemed vaguely humanoid, but upon closer inspection, was anything but. That long, thick, girthy head, the bizarre, skeletal body that seemed neither organic nor mechanical, and the long, bony, piercing tail. A phantom that would leap from the shadows, strike, and then disappear as suddenly as it had arrived. And disappear suddenly this individual certainly did, leaping into the ventilation shafts before either Hapley or Holmes could fully process what they were seeing. The writing on the wall was clear however; Holmes had been right, and Graymalkin’s team were about to make a dangerous close encounter with the third kind.
The team had very much been at edge even before stepping inside the third sector, and Hapley’s sudden message warning them of the presence of hostile life forms had certainly not aided. The third sector, once a hub of human life, was now a ghost town, in the most literal sense, and for good reason. Only the very foolish, or very brave dared to wander in this dragon’s den. The homes and shops that once held optimistic colonists looking for a better future, were now holding the bones of said colonists. Many swore they could still hear the echoing cries and screams of terror, panic and fear of the colonists, howling down the skeletal halls. Graymalkin could not hear these screams, but he could certainly feel them, melting over his shoulder and crawling up his back-
Suddenly, he felt a hand grasp his shoulder, and he threw himself around, preparing himself to encounter his unknown foe, seizing his pistol and blindly pointing it at his would-be assailant. This is it, he thought. This is what they trained you for. Just point and shoot and don’t look. So, his surprise can only be imagined, when instead of that all-too-familiar and yet alien deathly snarl, he was met with Coombe’s voice sputtering out ‘Woah, woah.’ Annoyed, Graymalkin lowered his pistol. ‘Don’t fucking do that.’ he spat. ‘You’ll scare the shit out of me.’
‘Hey, sorry kid. Just trying to help.’
‘Might be better if you don’t do anything at all.’
‘Can it, you two.’ Roberts interrupted. ‘Something’s come up on the motion tracker.’
Back in the second sector, a rugged, bearded man polished an old rifle, wondering just how the fuck he ended up in this godforsaken corner of the galaxy. Opposite to him, both figuratively and literally was a young man, still in his late teens, observing his action intently. ‘You gotta keep the safety switch on at all times when you’re cleaning this thing.’ The older man explained, pointing to the rusted lever on the side of the gun. ‘Otherwise, (he released the lever and pointed the barrel skyward before pulling the trigger) there’s a good chance your brains will be all over the place. And you like keeping your brains in your head, don’t you Scott?’ Scott nodded somewhat nervously. At that point, Tim wandered in, oblivious as usual, ready to pester them with his excessive questions. ‘Mac?’ he asked in his high-pitched, almost sing-song voice, before acknowledging Scott’s presence with a simple ‘Hey Scott’, to which Scott simply nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Hey Mac, do you know when we’re going to eat?’ ‘Wait for Graymalkin to come back, then we’ll talk about grub, kid.’ the older man sighed.
‘Oh, but I’m really hungry...’
‘How hungry are you.’
‘I’d eat anything. Well, except for Brussels sprouts.’
‘You’re in luck kid’ Mac replied, tossing him a simple, dry, old granola bar. ‘Here. Now go uhm, draw pictures or somethin’. Just don’t you wander off.’ Tim nodded in understanding before wandering off, munching on the Granola bar like it was some sort of wonderous ambrosia.
Meanwhile, at security, Hapley and Holmes quickly shifted through cameras, desperately trying to catch the elusive predator on the fuzzy, distorted screens. They knew it was close, the question was how close? If they could locate it, they could warn Graymalkin and the team to avoid the area in which it was in and spare them a deadly confrontation, but with how perfectly they seemed to melt into their environment, that would be far from an easy task. The low resolution and static-covered screens did not make it any easier either. Just her luck, Hapley thought. Just her luck to get stranded on this miserable rock. God dammit. God fucking dammit. Come on, she thought, come on, where the hell are you, come on, show yourself you Godless bastard, come on-
‘Any luck’ a deep voice resonated from behind her, shattering her sense of focus. She turned to meet the face of a near hairless middle-aged man, gaze focused on the cameras. ‘Jesus, don’t do that Francis.’ Hapley gasped, taken off-guard by his sudden appearance, something which he seemed to find rather amusing. ‘You should be more careful, my dear.’ he chuckled. ‘You never know, one of these days, one of those things could come up behind you and-’
‘Yeah yeah, real funny Francis. We’re kind of, you know, trying to focus here.’
‘Of course. My apologies, my dear. Holmes, have you any luck?’ The doctor shook his head in defeat. ‘Nothing. They’re clever little bastards. Speaking of clever little bastards, where did that kid go?’
‘You mean Tim? I’ll go look for him.’
Stiffly, as he was already one of the older members of the colony, Francis marched out of the room, but not before sneaking a cigarette from Holmes’s pack while sneakily smirking at Hapley, who responded with a sarcastic head shake and grin.
The ominous bleep of the motion tracker accelerated with the pulse of the three men, as the source of all their fears inched its way ever closer to them. Their eyes darted about, trying to catch a glimpse of their impending doom, but it was proving fruitless, and soon their quest would be too. That was when they realised just how they were being snuck upon. A method so obvious, so predictable, dare I say so cliche, they felt like smacking themselves in the face with how crystal clear it was. The vent. It was in the vent. The slow, ominous grating of the metallic claws against the corrugated steel only served to further confirm this chilling theory. Creak. Creak. Creak. Slowly it came, its presence spelling doom. And it seemed like the three men could do nothing about it. Their pistols were near useless against the thick, glistening shell that protected the beast from the world. Or the world from the beast. What were they to do, in such a seemingly hopeless situation? ‘We’re screwed.’ Coombe whispered. ‘These pistols ain’t gonna do shit against that thing. Might as well hand ourselves over on a silver plate.’ ‘Shut up Coombe!’ Roberts snarled. ‘How ‘bout ya think of somethin’ instead of crying like a little bitch.’
‘Oh yeah? Give me a good plan.’
‘How bout you do it yourself, smart-ass?’
‘It doesn’t know.’ Graymalkin intervened. ‘It doesn’t know.’ ‘Kindly elaborate, please?’ Roberts snapped.
‘It doesn’t know that these pistols won’t hurt it. So, if we shoot, but don’t hit, maybe it’ll get the memo.’
‘I dunno...’
‘I’d like to hear one of your plans.’
Realising that he had nothing left to believe in, Roberts swallowed his pride and nodded in agreement. Carefully observing the screen of the motion tracker, Coombe raised the pistol gently into the air and took aim at the vent. Not too close, but not too far, he thought. It could not be so close that the monster would realise it was harmless, but not too far so that it did not notice it. It had to be just right. Feeling the sweat trickle down his fingers and his pulse nearly burst its way out of his chest, he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. The hollow bang echoed through the walls, followed by a loud clang as the bullet stuck the vent. Slowly, he opened his eyes, dreading the worst. Forcing his head, he turned to observe the motion tracker. The relief he felt could only be imagined, the sheer weight off his shoulder barely fathomable, as he saw the small green dot wander away into the darkness.
After their brush with death, there was a sense of ease that began to grow in the team’s chest, a small flicker of light against the enveloping darkness and dread. While they still remained on high alert, the encounter had left them with a newfound sense of courage and confidence. Now they felt like they had a plan, a foolproof plan to hold those things off if they dared to show their ungodly faces in the area anytime soon. As a result, the operation continued as previously planned, but with a sense of higher spirits than before, and a feeling of divine protection. Hapley and Holmes felt it too, sensing that their mandatory close encounter quota had already been filled, and that it was unlikely that they would have to deal with those things again. Finally, the old technician's office came into view, with the rusted sign's remnants reading ‘Townley, James’, and the bright orange briefcase glistened through the shards of broken glass. Coombe did not waste any time; he leapt through the door and seized it like it was some holy grail. To him it certainly was; it contained tools vital to maintaining the doors that protected them from the outside world, the tools to separate their Eden from the wilderness beyond. He eagerly threw it open, scouring it to make sure none of it was absent while calling over the others excitedly, like a child having found something interesting. As his colleagues ran over, however, he was concerned at the look of fear on their faces, not excitement. Confused, he asked them what was the matter, before hearing a deep thump from behind him. Something had just landed behind him. A drop of unknown slime dripped onto his shoulder, freezing his muscles. He could not move, his feet gripped the floor in fear, and he felt the sweat slither down his forehead as he forced himself to turn and face his opponent. His eyes only managed to slightly catch the sight of his assailant, before a sharp, piercing set of inner jaws launched forward and crashed through his skull. The last thing he felt was the blood pouring out of his skull and his body grow limp as he was lifted off the ground.
Graymalkin and Roberts could only watch in horror as Coombe was violently torn away from the ground and dragged into a vent, still screaming in confusion and terror. As their consciousness returned to their bodies, their fight-or-flight kicked in, and they certainly did not consider fighting. Down they tumbled, deeper into the bowls of the ruins, deeper towards a hell only imaginable. They scrambled through rooms desperately trying to find a place to hide, all while those hollow, soulless footsteps came cascading down the halls, following, pursuing, hunting. Soon, they came across a small locker room, far from the most ideal place, but an opportunity nonetheless. Roberts threw himself into a locker and slammed it tightly shut in front of him, shielding him from the horror, while Graymalkin slid under a table and lay flat, hoping he would not be heard or seen.
That was when those footsteps climaxed just outside of the door, which swung open hollowly with a cold thud. Those slender, metallic legs stood only a few metres from Graymalkin, as the long head scanned the room for any sign of life. Suddenly, the legs moved, gently stepping across the broken tiles, making its way carefully across the room and to the other side of the table. There, it turned to face across the table, and stood there, as if inspecting something. Then, its knees began to bend. The creature began to ever so slightly crouch, as if it were to look under the table, where it just may find Graymalkin, holding his breath and biting his tongue. Graymalkin closed his eyes, bracing himself for a horrific fate, but could not help but peek out from under his eyelids, curious of the true nature of what was to be his reaper. To say he was at death’s door would be a mighty understatement, after all he could see his reflection in the shining iron teeth of the beast, and feel the cold, slimy drip of its thick saliva. He felt his heart synchronise with the low growl, and could already feel the long, piercing tail course its way through his body.
At that moment, a sharp creak emerged from Roberts’s locker, and the jaws were flung away from Graymalkin and towards the locker. Roberts pressed himself against the wall, and gulped, holding every inch of himself from screaming as the ‘face’ of the monster seemed to peer through the slits of the locker, trying to locate its prey. Carefully, it bobbed, seeking for a sign of life, but it seemed like its search was proving fruitless for it, and it soon slithered away, back into the shadows. Graymalkin and Roberts let out some of the most unapologetically relieved breaths they had taken. It was gone, everything was fine now. There was not going to be any more disturbances. Slowly, Roberts opened the locker, peering out cautiously. Coast was clear, he thought, and at last he could be at somewhat ease again. ‘You okay?’ he whispered to Graymalkin, who still was clutching the floor in fear. He nodded, slowly at first, before breaking out into an anxious spasm. Relieved, Roberts smiled.
Then, the door to the locker room slammed open, and the footsteps rebounded across the floor at a speed near unimaginable to either of them. Roberts tried to close the locker door and seal himself away, but it proved a futile defence against what seemed to be a near-perfect organism, and was tossed aside like a cheap toy. Roberts held his arms up, in either defence or in an act of begging for mercy, it just was not clear at the time as he was thrown against the back of the locker. Trapped, he could only face his doom head-on as it came crashing against his skull in the form of a sharp inner jaw, breaking though his forehead and enveloping his eyes in blood, as he felt the sharp metal nails tear at his skin. In one last breath, he let out his final scream, a scream that would echo through the halls and through Graymalkin’s mind for eternity.
Graymalkin ran. Not to anywhere specifically, but he ran nonetheless. He could not bear looking back and seeing the creature pursuing him, reaching for him, grabbing at him. Soon, he found himself in an old square, the square that he had first met Hapley and Scott only a mere six weeks prior. No longer was it a bustling hub of human life however, instead it was cold, empty, and dark, its past now lying painted on the walls and splattered along the floor in the form of litter, slime, dust... and blood. A few benches and the long, rectangular plant pots were all that remained of the square. Above, a glass ceiling lay cracked, permitting a faint hue of light to descend upon the ruins. But none of that Graymalkin permitted himself to process. Right now, all that mattered was his safety, and that meant finding a way how to get that thing off his tail. Exhausted, he sat and curled up behind one of the plant pots, considering his options.
At that moment, he heard the old doors creak open once more. Peeking over the edge, he caught that familiar dark shape, standing at the door. Dammit, he thought, this thing’s smarter than we thought. Carefully, it made its way across the square, its head slowly bobbing as it scoured the area. Graymalkin cautiously shifted about, holding his breath and slowly taking the lightest steps possible. A game of cat and mouse ensued, and Graymalkin was now becoming familiar with the idea that humans were no longer at the top of the food chain in this bizarre new natural order. Soon, he found himself behind a pile of scrap metal, the ‘cat’ on the opposite side, inching its way towards the helpless ‘mouse’. Graymalkin had spent all the tricks that were up his sleeve, and he could not find anymore. Death began to approach him on two legs, balancing on a long, jagged tail, and hidden within a steel jaw. That was when he found an old tin can, unsuspicious and completely ordinary, one of the last familiar elements of the square. At last, Graymalkin had an idea again. These things were very well built, very good at seeing, smelling, feeling, tasting, and the most important to him, hearing. Closing his eyes and bracing for the worst outcome, he threw the can over, striking one of the old wall tiles, which collapsed with a skeletal thud. The long head raised, and darted towards the source, seeking out whatever little morsal mad such a sound. The beast was not the only thing darting however, as Graymalkin scuttled towards the air duct ahead of him, and slammed one of the rusty buttons, sealing it shut.
Relief swept across him as he finally realised, he had lost the creature. Crawling through the duct, he emerged in an old storage room, dark and desolate. Not a comfortable place for most people, but for someone who had kept having close encounters of the third kind, and of the less friendly sort, it was perfect. He pressed his head against the cold, grimy wall and closed his eyes, releasing the pressure within his body. That was when he heard a scuttling sound. Like that of small legs, crawling along the floor, like that of a mouse or spider. Graymalkin was not in an imaginative mood, and dismissed it as such. Finally getting to his feet, he turned on his torch and scanned the room around him. It was nothing special, just old cleaning equipment and old papers scattered on the walls and floor. However, soon his torch found something out of the ordinary. Something that was not like he had ever seen before. It was round, like an egg, and quite large, with a lobed opening at the top. Curious, he investigated, his eyes peeking over the edge and into the egg. Just what would come out of such an egg? Was he about to find out? Peeking in, he found it to be... empty. Just some slimy residue on the walls, some torn fibre and nothing else. Oh well, he thought, nothing to see there. Then he heard a creaking sound, emerging from one of the cupboards. He threw his torch around, inspecting the cupboards for the sound’s origin.
That was when a dark shape descended upon him, latched onto his face, and he knew nothing more.
When Graymalkin came to, he was lying on the floor of the chamber, facing the dark, grimy ceiling, his memories of the last several hours distorted and fuzzy. He had no clue how long he had been unconscious, and he could barely even remember why he had been rendered unconscious in the first place. All he could remember was a dream about... smothering? but none of that mattered. What mattered now was getting back to the rest of colony. There was no way that the mission was to proceed how it had originally been planned, not when most of the team was dead and he was so far off from the location. Getting back on his feet, he felt around and managed to find the door handle. Throwing it open with the last of the strength in his body, he hobbled out into the corridor. No sign of any activity, human or not. At this point however, he could have cared less. He just wanted the bugs to finish him off, or for him to reach the colonists.
He was only a few feet away from the entrance to the second sector when he heard a disturbance behind him. He turned, seeking out his stalker, but finding once again no sign of life. Exhausted, he turned back towards the door. Then another disturbance. Something’s playing games with me, he thought. ‘Alright.’ he growled. ‘Where are you, you slippery little bastard, come on-’
With a crash, a dark figure leapt from the shadows and he felt the full weight of the phantom collide against his body. Knocked back onto his rear, he struggled to return equilibrium as the figure approached him, teeth bared, jaws salivating, its growling gradually growing with its rage. This was it, he thought. No tricks are going to get me out of here. This is the end. Slowly, the long head floated towards him, like a haunting spectre, like death itself, floating to reap his soul from his mortal remains. Graymalkin felt the slow drip of the beast’s saliva on his bruised and burnt skin, the cold, soulless breath on his face, the quiet snarl in his soul. The jaws began to open, revealing that dreaded deathly apparatus that lay between them, pulsing, throbbing, waiting to strike its way through his skull and into his brain. I’m sorry Hapley, were the last words he was prepared to say.
Then a gunshot enveloped the air, swallowing all other sounds in its wake. Graymalkin’s eyes reopened, and then, just as suddenly as the beast had arrived, it was gone. He stood up and turned to face his saviour, a steel-faced Mac, holding a smoking rifle. Behind him, a relieved Hapley stood, eyes wide with tension. ‘You okay kid?’ Mac asked in his low, gravelly voice.
‘Listen, the case... We couldn’t get it, those things-’
‘I know.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No need. Come back in.’
As soon as their brief conversation was over, Hapley darted forwards, her arms wrapping around Graymalkin, who smiled affectionately at such a response. ‘Damn you.’ She snarled. ‘I thought I told you not to do any dumb shit out there.’
‘Heh, whoops. Guess that’s just my nature.’
‘Oh, do shut up.’
The faces of the young couple pressed against each other in a short, mischievous kiss. ‘Come on.’ Hapley beckoned him. ‘You better get back and get yourself cleaned up.’
‘Am I really that dirty?’
‘Yes, you rarely aren’t’
‘Hey!’
Holmes and Francis sat at the old table just outside of Francis and the Hapley sibling’s ‘house’, slowly eating the remaining rations. Every day, the portions seemed to grow smaller and less appealing. Who knew if food was even going to be digestible soon, what with how processed it had become? After moments of grave silence, Holmes broke the silence. He wanted to feel good about the fact that Graymalkin was safe and alive, but knowing what the mission meant, as well as what its failure meant, he just could not remain upbeat. ‘So’ he began. ‘What do we do now?’ ‘Well,’ Francis coughed. ‘We’ll have to get those tools one way or another.’
‘Couldn’t we make them from scratch?’
‘No, these things are incredibly precisely designed my dear Holmes. You would need a specialised machine to make these the exact shape necessary. A machine we don’t have.’
‘Could we get one?’
‘They’re far too large to be easily moved. And the commotion that would come with it would bring... unwanted attention.’
‘But there has to be a way!’
‘There is a way, we just haven’t found it yet. Believe me, we will soon, don’t you worry. For now, let’s focus on staying alive.’
‘We’ve been focusing on that for God-knows-how-long Francis! There’s no damn point in living if that radio tower remains out of operation!’
‘Look... Something’ll turn up. I don’t know what, but something will.’
‘It had better hurry the hell up.’
Hapley scoured the mirror looking for any signs of any blemishes or imperfections. Eighteen, she thought to herself, and already feeling wrinkly. Her time at the colony had taken its toll on her, physically and mentally. Six weeks had felt more like six years. Every day, she felt the life drain from her veins and the colour from her skin. If she stayed any longer, she thought, she would just slowly waste away into nothingness, becoming a pile of dust on the floor. Feeling like she could not be bothered anymore, she left the bathroom and made her way down the hall, at which point she was suddenly stopped by a familiar voice calling her name. ‘Yes Timmy?’ she sighed. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked curiously.
‘Just going to see if Graymalkin’s alright.’
‘What, your boyfriend?’
‘What! No, go away...’
‘You love him, don’t you?’
‘Oh, get lost...’
Hapley creaked the old door open and stepped out into the street, acknowledging Holmes and Francis on her way out. ‘And where are you going, young lady?’ Francis asked, his eyebrow raised. ‘Just going to check on Graymalkin.’ she responded.
‘Alright then... So, should I expect you in the morning then?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning on getting up to?’
‘What?’
‘You know, you and him...’
‘Oh no! What? Oh, get lost old man.’
‘(Chuckle) You know, I was your age once, my dear. I know exactly what you’re planning.’
‘Yeah, sure you were.’
Hapley walked off, still teasing Francis behind his back. ‘And behave!’ Francis called after her. ‘Yeah yeah, old man.’
‘And I’m not that old!’
Slowly, Hapley removed the tea bags from her mug before doing the same to Graymalkin’s and handing him his hot cup of tea. At this point, Graymalkin was not very interested in much excitement after his encounters, however, he knew how Hapley was, and he certainly did not mind some excitement with her, that is all I’ll say. ‘So,’ She began. ‘You sure you’re alright.’ ‘Well.’ He replied. ‘I’m in one piece, I suppose.’
‘And that’s it?’
‘Well, what else do you want me to say (faking a thick British accent to mimic Hapley’s) ‘Aye mate, I’m feeling right lovely-jubliy today! Absolutely cracking!’’
‘(Chuckling) Oh shut up.’
‘Oh yeah? Make me.’
‘(Hapley placed her hand on Graymalkin’s cheek) I think I know how.’
At that point she pulled him into a deep kiss, a close intimate one, one between people who were giving the rest of their love to one another. Deeper they came and soon, she felt his bare skin on hers, as they grew closer to intimacy. Then, suddenly, he pulled away and placed his hand on his chest, as if in pain. ‘You okay?’ Hapley whispered. Graymalkin gave a short groan in pain. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked him, growing considerably more concerned. He gave another groan. The third grown turned into a shout. The fourth, a scream in pain. Hapley began to panic as she watched him begin to convulse as she held him in her arms and he clutched his chest tightly in agony. Then, to Hapley’s horror, the skin of his chest began to pull forwards. A dark shape began pounding against his skin, beating, crashing and forcing against his skin. Hapley felt every neuron in her body fire as she witnessed the scene, praying, begging that everything would be alright and calling out for help, in hopes that someone would hear. But it was futile. The skin of Graymalkin’s chest stretched once more, and in a sight that would become ingrained in Hapley’s mind forevermore, it burst and tore open. Blood burst onto her face and she watched as Graymalkin’s mouth bleed, taking his life with him.
Then she saw it. The small, serpentine creature that had birthed from Graymalkin. Its metallic teeth, its bloody skin.
Hapley screamed.
