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Inferno - Chapter 9: Phantasms
Posted By: Skul<skulkrusha2000@hotmail.com>
Date: 22 February 2008, 2:06 am
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0039 hours, June 13, 2553 (Military Calendar) / Fire Base Alpha Zulu Foxtrot, Planet Earth
Thump.
The vibrations were stronger, now, but Osmond couldn't tell where the sound was originating. It seemed to be coming from everywhere.
He limped along the dark, deserted corridors towards the medical bay, his punctured right calf hurting abominably. Suddenly, there was an angry, throaty hiss behind him. Osmond whirled around, his flashlight and pistol pointed towards the sound.
Nothing greeted him.
A strangled growl sounded at his back and he quickly turned.
Nothing.
Thump.
He stood listening for a few moments, sweating. When he was convinced nothing was in the corridor with him, he moved forward slowly. Another strangled growl emanated behind him. Osmond turned quickly, stumbling on his injured leg. Again, there was nothing but darkness awaiting him.
Osmond turned back and continued walking towards the medical bay, his pace quickened.
When he heard another sound at his back, he shook his head and didn't turn.
Nothing there. Nothing fucking there!
A heavy, growling weight slammed into him from behind. Osmond's flashlight and pistol flew from his hands and his leg screamed with pain. The Captain felt large hands with long fingers clawing for his throat. Reacting purely on instinct, Osmond thrust his right elbow as hard as he could at the attacker lying on top of him. His elbow connected and the aggressor grunted. Osmond struck twice more, his attacker finally rolling off him.
Getting to his feet quickly, Osmond launched a punch at where he thought his assailant was, but he only hit air. Recovering from his swing, Osmond raised his fists, although he would have no chance of fighting effectively in pitch black. He turned around wildly, trying to hear or sense his opponent in the darkness. He stopped turning and stayed still.
Thump.
Apart from the thumping, louder now, there was no sound to be heard. Osmond listened for a moment more before cautiously limping his way to his flashlight. Retrieving it, the Captain swung the beam over to where he had been seconds ago. As before, nothing was there. The mysterious attacker had vanished.
Osmond sighed heavily. Now he would have to investigate every sound that was uttered on his way to the medical lab in case his attacker appeared again. He picked up his pistol and suddenly noticed a strange lightning bolt shape on the pool of light cast by his flashlight. He looked at the lens and it confirmed what he thought - the glass that focused the light beam had cracked.
At least it still works, he thought.
The Captain finally reached the lab. The entire way, he had heard growls, screams, roars and other unearthly sounds, all of which had no source. A walk that should only have taken one minute turned into a five-minute journey of dread.
The door slid open, revealing a large room, dark and silent.
"Hello?" Osmond risked a shout. There was no response. Just in case, he turned to check the black corridor with his flashlight. Emptiness. Osmond turned back to the medical lab. His flashlight lit up various pharmaceuticals on shelves and in open cabinets. Books and papers were scattered on the floor. Looking closely, Osmond saw bloody Elite hoofprints leading into the room. In the middle of the room was a wall that extended halfway across the lab's width, almost dividing the lab into two halves. The bloody hoofprints disappeared behind this wall. From their reflective shine, Osmond knew that the blood was fresh. He stepped fully into the lab, following the hoofprints. There was a clatter to his left. Osmond turned and fired blindly. It took him a few seconds to realise that the sound was from several plastic jars that had fallen from their cabinet. Two of them, both with blue caps, rolled lazily across the floor and came to a stop under a stool.
Thump.
Using the back of his flashlight hand to wipe sweat off of his brow, Osmond continued following the trail of bloody prints. He neared the wall section behind which the hoofprints turned.
Taking a deep breath, Osmond sidestepped past the wall and aimed.
Nothing…
The Captain looked down at the floor, but was surprised to find the hoofprints had disappeared. Papers and books still lay scattered, but they were no longer covered in purple-blue blood. Osmond shook his head and looked for a medical kit. He turned to look behind him and saw one hanging on the wall by its long strap, its white surface reflecting the light brightly. He moved towards it, checking around the room as he did so.
Thump.
He tucked his flashlight under his arm and took the kit from its hanging place. He went to a nearby bed and set the kit, his flashlight and his sidearm on it and then got on himself.
He pulled up his trouser leg, which was soaked with blood, and used the flashlight to examine the wound. Four punctures on one side and another on the opposite side of his calf. Placing the flashlight where it would illuminate his leg the most, Osmond opened the medical kit and took out a small cloth and some antiseptic. Pouring the antiseptic on the cloth, he gritted his teeth and wiped the punctures. He grunted and then inhaled sharply, the disinfectant making the wounds sting. He wiped twice more and then, breathing deeply, took out some bandages. Before applying them, he checked around with his flashlight. Still nothing. That was what unnerved him the most - the sheer emptiness and silence of the base. Except for the thumping, of course. It was very close by. The vibrations were strong, now.
Putting the flashlight back down, Osmond wrapped the bandages around his leg, covering the wounds. The pain was dulled, now. Getting off the bed, Osmond tested his leg by walking a few steps. It still hurt, but he no longer needed to limp.
Before picking up his flashlight and pistol, Osmond lifted the medical kit and slung it over his shoulder by its strap. He had a feeling he would need it.
The Captain retrieved his other equipment and set off to hopefully find somebody else and discover the source of the thumping.
He stood outside the entrance to the mess hall. The sound was coming from inside there, he was sure of it. The vibrations were so strong here that the door rattled inside its frame.
The Captain swivelled his body, carefully checking up and down the pitch-black corridor with his flashlight. The haunting sounds had harassed him all the way. Twice he heard some sort of beast stomping its way towards him at a fast pace. Nothing ever came at him, but he was sure the beast, or beasts, existed - he had felt the footsteps as they neared him.
Osmond stepped inside the large, dark mess hall, looking for the source of the thumping with his flashlight. He didn't feel very secure with an open door behind him, so he stepped in further until it hissed shut.
The mess hall was completely empty. The tables were clear of objects and food stains.
Thump.
Osmond turned. It was coming from the very centre of the room. He slowly sidestepped further into the mess hall, bringing him near the counter, to get a clear view.
From the sound of it, the thumping seemed to be coming from under the tiled floor.
He didn't want to get near whatever was making that thumping noise. Looking around, Osmond saw a ladle lying on the floor to his left. He moved over to it and, after tucking his flashlight under his pistol's armpit, picked it up. Moving back to where he had been standing, Osmond looked at the ladle and then at where the sound was emanating from. He took a deep breath and threw it.
The ladle hit the floor with a clang. Osmond readied himself, fully expecting some type of giant worm-like creature to burst up through the ground, throwing the mess hall's metal tables and chairs everywhere.
For several seconds, nothing happened. No sound, no movement. Osmond realised he had been holding his breath and he let it out slowly and quietly.
Without warning, the mess hall's lights flashed on, blinding him momentarily. He squinted through the brightness, his darkness-adjusted eyes watering.
There was a sound behind him. Osmond whirled and aimed his gun. A figure stood just beyond the counter. It made a shocked cry and raised its arms.
"Don't shoot!" it said.
Osmond saw it was the chef. Under his tall, white chef's hat, he wore a surprised, confused look on his black-bearded face.
The Captain frowned and lowered his sidearm.
"Who are you? Where did you come from?" asked Osmond.
The chef slowly lowered his arms and watched the Captain warily, "Chief Warrant Officer 2 Davis, sir. I… came from the kitchen."
"You were in there all along?"
"Sir?"
"You must have heard the thumping, then?"
"Sir? Thumping? No. All I heard was this sort of… clang, so I came to see what it was and I found you… pointing your gun at me."
"Yeah. Sorry about that," said Osmond, glancing at his sidearm, which he still held in his hand, "Are you sure you didn't hear a thumping? It was coming from right under us."
"No, sir, I heard nothing."
"Well, the lights went out. Any idea what-?" he stopped as he saw Davis' confused expression.
"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about."
Osmond shook his head and sighed, "Forget it."
He holstered his weapon and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
"Sir, are you okay?" asked Davis.
"Yeah, fine," replied Osmond, not bothering to mention his punctured calf, nor what had punctured it. He closed his eyes and let out another sigh, remembering the encounter with the skeletons.
"As you were, Davis," said Osmond, wearily and began walking out of the mess hall.
"Yes, sir," replied Davis with a salute. The chef continued saluting the Captain, watching after him with a concerned expression, until Osmond was out of his sight.
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