Wrath of the Carnelians (Europa) Page 11

  “Why?” Tommy asked looking up at the ceiling. “Oh, shit,” his face swelled with panic, his slow walk turned to a brisk step of retreat.

  Donny also looked up in a curious stare. Above the men, crawling across the ceiling in a systematic horde, were small alien creatures. Their lengthy claws gripped the ship’s steel as they made their way across the ceiling. One of the bluish creatures turned its small head and displayed a sharpened factory of teeth.

  Tommy made it to the armory. “Donny, come on,” he urged his friend to make the last few feet.

  Donny was embroiled in a frozen state of fear. His eyes became fixated on the approaching Carnelian’s. Within a few moments, the alien released its grip from the ceiling and began its descent on the suspecting prey. Donny’s mouth widened to scream, but soon became fixated in a panicked state of fear. The alien creature swiftly wormed it was inside its prey’s unsuspecting mouth, scurrying down Donny’s flexing throat. Coughing with violent rhythm, Donny became Athena’s second victim.

  “We can’t save him,” Drake screamed out to Logan and Tommy. “Close the fucking door!”

  The two men pulled the heavy door closed, reluctant, still fearing fpr their friend’s safety. Moments later, Donny smacked against it trying to regain access inside the room.

  “Let me in!” He unloaded on the door, the skin on his knuckles sliced open from the continuous pounding. “Its me Donny dammit!”

  Logan and Tommy gazed out the small window in the door as Donny’s violent coughing commenced, forcing Donny to regurgitate the lodged alien. The creature lurched at the window, splattering a bluish blood across the glass pane.

  “What the fuck are those things?” Drake noticed the creature’s bloody streak.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.” Logan held the door handle firmly.

  “Let him in,” Tommy urged Logan to release his grip on the L-shaped handle.

  “It’s too late.” Logan shrugged off Tommy’s demand.

  Donny thrashed himself against the door, again pounding and screaming for them to let him inside.

  “There was only one of them,” Drake insisted.

  “There were at least ten or twenty of those shits,” Logan called back. “Donny’s in trouble, and we can’t jeopardize the rest of the crew. He will be sorely missed.”

  “Step away from the door,” Tommy said reaching for a Plasma Shooter.

  “No.” Logan defied him while he watched Donny’s eyes plead for help.

  The Carnelians engulfed Donny’s body, overpowering their prey with deafening agility and attacked their victim using quick, sharp precise assaults with their gnarled claws, digging and burrowing deep into their prey’s jolting body.

  Logan defiantly stood his ground. “The only way you let Donny in, is over my dead body.”

  Riley’s knees swelled from the intense pressure he had put on them during his vigilante hide and seek game of mutated revenge. Backed up against the wall, double-gauge Dockery shotgun in one hand, and a fully serviceable grenade ion his right, Riley had decided it was now time to make his move. He heard the faintest fall of footsteps approaching from the southern corridor. He planted his feet with a firm stance, pressing his back tight against the wall. The footsteps soon turned to a full-scale scampering down the darkened corridor. “That’s it fools, run like the scared shits that you are.” Riley’s mind raced with an onslaught of violent ideas on how he was going personally dismember each one of the ship’s defiant crew.

  Riley’s right finger coolly withdrew the silver pin, hurtling the active grenade into the corridor. Expecting the explosion, he dove for cover, upending a metal table for protection, anticipating the ferocious blast. His left hand clenched the shotgun, sweat poured down his dirtied face. This man readied his psyche for all out war. Riley’s slow recovery from the bleach attack, left his eyes blurry and hazy, yet he was still unable to distinctly see everything around him. His eyes caught series of fleeting shadows and briefly, colors.

  “One, two,” he began the countdown. “Soon, I’ll have the entire ship to myself, and be able to fly back to Earth and save everyone else who were left behind.” Riley’s morality had justified his minor detour to insanity. “Three, four. BOOM!”

  The explosion rocked the entire spacecraft.

  Logan closed his eyes and waited for Tommy to pull the trigger, but instead the group became dislodged and were thrown to the floor during the explosion.

  “What the hell was that?” Sammy asked, his hand had caught the brunt of his sudden fall.

  “Sounded like our new friend has found the arsenal,” Drake replied with a dour tone. “And he’s not waiting to open the party favors. Now, were faced with not only our new insane stowaway, but our gracious host who seems more determined than ever to get to New Earth than anyone on board this ship.”

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” Tommy said. “Take a look over there.”

  “Why?” Sammy looked at the door.

  “We are a few doors down from the generator room,” Tommy stated.

  “And,” Sammy started the sentence.

  “That’s where fresh oxygen is,” Drake finished off the statement.

  Logan stirred about, blood trickling from his nose. He groggily stood back up, wiping away the blood with the back of his hand. His body faced the group, and didn’t adhere to reality soon enough to notice the screaming fireball barreling down on the stunned crew.

  Before the men could utter another phrase, the rolling fireball swallowed up the corridor, taking Donny in its fiery path, instantly incinerating their infected friend. The ravage explosion rocketed the door inward with disturbing force, throwing Logan across the room, pinning the medic against the far easterly wall.

  Riley, satisfied with his act of courage, uncovered and headed for the corridor, frothing at the mouth, eager to witness the destruction. The intense fire withered away. His eyes briefly picked out several streaks of blue and green residue all over the place. Some of the sticky matter clutched to the ceiling before dripping down in a slow methodical pattern. Riley lost visual once more, his eyes burning from the fire and smoke.

  A shadow emerged from the dying fire, and reached through with fiery fingers and clutched Riley by the throat.

  “You my friend, are about to experience the full wrath of the Carnelian race.” The man’s voice, filled with rage.

  Riley, unable to break free from the man’s death-like grasp, waited for the next sequence of events. His eyes flashed a quick image of his attacker. Riley’s mind spiraled, leaving behind a fear-stricken man after taking a long, hardened stare in the man’s dark, brooding eyes.

  “Any last requests?” The man tightened his grip and took pleasure in squeezing the air from its squirming victim.

  Guts and Glory

  “Is he breathing?” Tommy seemed to scream his question, his hand still attached to the Plasma shooter.

  “Yeah, he’ll be okay.” Drake’s fingers felt around for Logan’s pulse while Sammy lifted the crumpled door off his Logan’s body.

  “We need to get back to the control room and prepare for New Earth,” Sammy said.

  “I have a wonderfully original idea,” Drake responded, lifting Logan up.

  “Which is?” Tommy stammered.

  “We need to secure the ship. That explosion probably did some interior damage and compromised the ship’s integrity.”

  “So, what’s our plan, exactly?” Tommy wanted to know.

  “Sammy and I will get Logan to the control room,” Drake ordered. “You’ll make one last walk through and make sure our new passengers are either coming without fuss, or they perished in that fireball outside.”

  “Why me?”

  “You’re the brave one holding the big gun.” Drake cracked a smooth grin. “I can’t walk one-hundred percent.”

  “I’m going to make it quick.”

  “You’d better. Your skills are needed in the cockpit.” Sammy attempted his own brand of humo
r.

  “Funny, real funny.” Tommy turned and headed for the singed corridor, Plasma shooter dangling loosely by his side.

  “You can’t kill me,” Riley gasped for air.

  “Why not? I’m thinking about making it a profession.”

  “I’m Adrian Blakely,” Riley attempted to foil his attacker. “See the name badge on my jacket?”

  “Oh,” the man said while he stared down at the jacket’s sewn name badge. “Well, that changes everything then.”

  “I’m the world’s famous billionaire,” Riley struggled for words. “I can offer you a handsome reward if you help me overthrow this ship.” Riley’s eyes continued to fail him. He couldn’t make out the attacker at all. The man’s face was a contorted mess of shadows and skin.

  “Some punk stealing my identity won’t change the fact that I am Adrian Blakely! And, that makes you a very unlucky contestant today,” Adrian’s voice shifted to satirizing a game-show host. “Tell the loser what he’s won!” Adrian revamped his grip on Riley’s bleeding neck. Adrian’s fingernails clawed and dug through Riley’s sweaty skin.

  “I’m begging you, you need me.” Riley had forgotten all about the shotgun. His torn, scratched left hand still had the weapon clutched tightly and ready to fire. Adrian failed to notice Riley’s gun.

  “The only thing I need from you, blind man,” Adrian growled, “is the whereabouts of the rest of my crew.”

  “Your crew?” Riley stubbornly fought Adrian’s philosophy. “They are my crew, and when I find them, the first order of business is to tear you apart limb from limb.”

  “My patience wears thin,” Adrian scowled and with a thick tone, displayed his trademark snicker. “Time to die.” He applied the final blow to Riley’s Adam’s apple.

  “Not if I can help it,” Riley muttered, his vision returned for one last split second. With a sharp kick to Adrian’s groin, he managed to break Adrian’s grip. Riley, without hesitation, brought the butt of the shotgun crashing against Adrian’s jaw, sending him to the ground. Standing above Adrian, Riley squeezed the trigger and sent round after round in Adrian’s chest, splattering Adrian’s bluish mixture of blood across the room. “Feeling like a winner now shit face?” Riley taunted him, impatiently waiting for the kill shot, aiming the gun squarely in the center of Adrian’s forehead.

  “You will live to regret this. I will personally make sure of that,” Adrian’s words were minced with blood, the sticky substance spilling from his mouth.

  “It’s time for your parting gift,” Riley manically stated, before his inconsistent vision began to elude him at the worst time, limiting the fatal shot to Adrian’s head. The blast scattered off the metal table, ricocheted off the wall, grazed Riley’s right temple and finally shattered the expansive light fixture above, sprinkling Earth-friendly glass on top of the two men.

  Tommy worked his way down the blackened corridor, pausing intermittently to readjust the tight purple scarf that had persistently agitated his sweaty neck. Tommy’s grip on the Plasma shooter remained firm, intact, and ready to eradicate any chance of an enemy threat. He continued down the poorly lit corridor. The fearsome pilot stepped over the charred, mangled remains of what looked to be an alien species. Short, about two, or three feet in length with cooked blue skin, their countless bodies had littered the floor, walls, and in some instances, the ceiling. Tommy’s military training had taught him to be aware of his surroundings, always factoring in all angles of the problem.

  His fingers ached from holding the gun, fingertips succumbing to a gnawing numbness, Tommy’s grip loosened. A small pack of remaining aliens scattered about, roughly twenty feet in front of Tommy. Their patterns were dizzy, and meandering. Their senses were damaged from the firestorm that engulfed the charred corridor moments earlier.

  Above the two men, the security monitor fizzled, then returned back to the elusive picture. The lines retreated and the facial contour of Adrian reemerged, shifting his battered, yet rapidly healing body about on the shards of glass that lay ragged across the tiled floor. A collection of the fragmented light bulb dug in his neck, springing forth a new stream of blue blood. Adrian’s highly acute senses slowly returned, his left eye flickered about, catching a glimpse of the shadowy figure lurking about the dark corridor.

  Riley, sprawled out over the bloodied metal table frantically, and quite emphatically, cursed while he grabbed his head with his left hand, letting the shotgun dangle by his side.

  Adrian, motivated by this new figure lurking about, seamlessly flipped up, landing squarely on both feet. “Riley, Riley,” he taunted his beaten attacker.

  Riley couldn’t muster any strength for a verbal, let alone another physical attack.

  Adrian calmly approached Riley from behind, and with one swift kick, knocked loose the shotgun, sending it flying in the air. Using his newly acquired powers, Adrian, with one quick flick of his wrist, brought the weapon into his own hands. Adrian grabbed Riley by his small tuft of hair, and prepared to finish off the stubborn rogue opponent.

  “I have a new visitor to play with,” Adrian whispered in Riley’s red ear.

  “Go ahead, kill me.” Riley’s head hung inches from his bloody doom.

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  “What are you waiting for?” Riley gasped.

  Adrian prepared the shotgun, watching the sketchy monitor. “Our new friend is right outside the door.” Adrian lowered the gun and rested it against the table.

  “I don’t care.” Riley groaned.

  “I’m going to need a second-in-command,” Adrian seethed. “I have something for you.”

  “Is it a short death?” Riley shot back, still clutching the right side of his face. His hand, blood stained from the fresh wound, quivered in fright.

  “Even better. How would you like to live forever, and help me dominate the world?” Adrian offered.

  “Forever?” Riley asked. “World domination? How?”

  “Questions, questions,” Adrian taunted him. “Let’s just say I’ve been newly elected to lead my new army of unique individuals.”

  “Army?”

  “Yeah, I’m all about the teamwork,” Adrian sped up his answers. “Listen, I don’t have enough time to explain all the details,” Adrian bristled. He continued to keep an eye the faint glow of the monitor in the dark room. “I can give you your vision back.”

  “Really,” Riley groaned once more in pain. “And this headache?”

  “Gone,” Adrian paused, before reaching inside his mouth and withdrew a small, blue alien.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. Anything to live to fight another day.” Riley caved in. He watched as Adrian’s free hand placed something on the metal table.

  “What’s that?” Riley’s eyes widened. His vision returned in time to catch a glimpse of what as on the table. The small alien exerted its claws and scampered across the metal table, leaching behind a trail of fresh slimy scratches on the shiny surface. “Hey now, this wasn’t in the brochure,” Riley would have to rethink his decision, and forced himself to stand up.

  “Relax, and don’t be rude,” Adrian said, slamming Riley’s face down on the table with a firm shove. “Say hello to your new friend. The two of you will have some bonding time together.” Adrian held firm enjoying Riley’s screams as they filled the dark room.

  Tommy heard the bloodcurdling screams and placed his fingers back in position on the Plasma shooter. Tommy silently approached the source of the screams, and slid across the wall, ready to investigate.

  Bits and Pieces

  “Can someone please tell me what the fuck’s going here?” Sammy asked, bending over and grabbed Logan by his elbow. Drake assisted with the other side.

  “Our trip to New Earth’s become jeopardized,” Drake said. With a shot of adrenaline, he threw Logan’s left arm over his shoulder. Sammy followed suit, taking control of Logan’s right arm.

  “That Adrian,” Sammy paused, “is he on our side?”

  “I doubt it,” Drake
responded, taking in a deep breath.

  Sammy sensed Drake’s legs were becoming strained from Logan’s added weight. “Here,” Sammy offered, shifting Logan’s weight towards his side.

  “Thanks,” Drake mumbled. “I still have yet to grow my sea legs.”

  “Can you feel an improvement?”

  “Definitely, but I’m nowhere near one-hundred percent.” Drake shuffled Logan out the door and to the darkened corridor. “Watch your step, there’s some bits and pieces of everyone of those fuckers all over the floor.”

  “What is it? Guts?” Sammy looked around the murky floor.

  “Yeah, along with Donny’s remains,” Drake began, “as well as those nasty alien shits.”

  “So, what does that other guy want?”

  “That crazy fuck job that shot our Commander?” Drake answered.

  “Yeah, him.” Sammy jawed for a shot at Riley.

  “He probably wanted a ride to New Earth, but he seems to a few tacos short of a happy meal.” Drake shuffled his tired feet across the floor, stepping and out of the sticky remains of the Carnelians. “Oh, this is just great,” he murmured wiping the back of his boot across the floor, scraping away a collection of skin and tissue.

  Tommy took in a deep breath and turned the corner. Inside the room, lying across the floor was Riley, crumpled in a fetal position, with Adrian standing over him.

  Tommy raised the Plasma shooter, aiming it directly at Adrian. “Don’t move a muscle.”

  “Oh, I don’t intend to. It’s good to see that you’ve finally made it.” Adrian reached for the shotgun. “We need to have a one on one convo.”

  “I don’t think so. We’re not having any type of conversation.” Tommy waved his weapon around. “Don’t even dream of picking up that shotgun,” Tommy warned Adrian to follow his orders.

  “Anyway,” Adrian began, defying Tommy’s warning. “Like I said about our conversation, I understand you’re the pilot of this craft, which really is my ship. I mean, I designed the entire fleet for our President. I think I did one hell of a job.”

  “Get to the point.”

  “I’ve since become compromised by the alien race, known as the Carnelians,” Adrian told his story. “And, to put it simply, my DNA no longer works in the computer’s database.”