Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Forgotten Warnings pt 1 by Zombie Zak!


"Comes the Dark"

Fire, the birth of Man,
The birth of desire.
From the beginning of Time
Comes the depths of a crime.
A riddle of the Age as simple
As the riddle of the old Sage:
When does the beginning end
And the end begin again?

#

"Charles? Where are you, come in! We've lost track of your signal. Come in, damn it. We can't track you anymore," Barbara shouted into the microphone.

Giving up, she turned to the lab technician present with her at the site's mobile command tent. "Jonn, do you have anything useful to add?"

He looked down at the ground for a moment considering his next words.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Rogers. He grabbed his bag and headed on down the Hole. I told him to wait, to wait for proper support and everything. But he just bolted. He had this pasty look on his face, as if he had been stripped of his soul or something. I have never seen him look that out of sorts before. One moment we're working on the soundings over there on the resonance machine, and the next he screams out something unintelligible and takes off."

He pointed at one of the high tech devices that occupied one corner of the tent - the glow from its display a deeply hypnotic dance. The newer device was experimental and had a fancy name for it, but everyone called it a Resonator; it was an attempt to replace the more traditional magnetometer and gravitometer.

"And? What does the data say? Anything?"

"Just what we already suspected: That there is a large pocket of space below the lowest portion of the Hole as it is. There is a cavern beneath the Hole."

"How big?"

"Really big. And empty."

"Damn it; we weren't supposed to attempt to break through into the main chamber until tomorrow morning."

"I know that, Doctor Rogers; but he just up and took off. He kept repeating: There must be one, there must be one; there can only be one, there can only be one. It's in the pit, it's in the pit; the final one, the final one. I swear to whatever deity you wish to name, he looked quite loony as he ran away."

"Jonn, quit playing around. I need raw info here, not silly dramatics." She walked over to the display and gave it a long, hard look. "What did Charles take with him?"

"His pack, a pick axe and about hundred and fifty feet of rope; a harness, too. The winch, of course is already positioned at the bottom of the Hole; flares, flash light. I don't know what else he might have picked up; that's just what I saw him with." His hands fluttered like butterflies.

"Alright, fine. Let's get this onto some semblance of order, than, shall we?"

"Uhm, sure! How?"

"Get a hold of Lauren and Phil. Tell them to meet me at the Hole. I'm going to see what Charles might have gotten himself into. I'm guessing we're going into the deep dark earlier than planned."


#



The camp was small, only a handful of tents scattered haphazardly about. Evening had set hours ago, and morning was but a glimpse away. Jonn shouted like a madman and ran through the disarray, anxious to rouse everybody. Groggy heads and bodies peeked out of their meager housing arrangements.

There were about thirty other junior geologists, various technicians and general laborers housed within the drab grey tent city. Their jobs were to begin in earnest tomorrow, the first day of drill assembly and retrieval of some actual core samples. Stuff to send home and write good things about.

When it was clear that a problem was at hand, people began to rustle with some degree of purpose, dejectedly getting an early start on the day. Jonn bee-lined straight to Lauren and Phil's tent, which, not the least bit surprisingly, was the furthest away. When he got there, he had to rest a moment to catch his breath.

"God damn it, Jonn; what the blazes is such a racket needed for? Can't you see the missus and I was having a debate of heated proportions?" Lauren could be heard inside, giggling. They were the only couple that was attached to the expedition.

Jonn blanched a little, understanding the euphemism for what it was; it was difficult to see the darkly skinned man blush, but Phil knew that his barb had hit. Still catching his breath, the technician blurted out "Charles has gone to the Hole. He means to breach the bottom and go into the cavern below. Alone."

"God's above, is he insane?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I'm beginning to think so, but Doctor Rogers wants us over at the Hole as soon as possible."

"Well, obviously. OK, you get back to the Command Shack. Lauren and I will be over to the Hole as soon as we can. Tell Barbara we'll be there in five or ten minutes, tops! Go. Come on, honey, we're going on a climb." The door zipped shut as he whipped back inside. Dismissed, Jonn headed back to the main tent at a more leisurely pace. The rest of the camp was still waking up as he walked past.


#



"Jonn! What's our com status?" Barbara demanded.

"We are good, Doctor. I've got solid readings on all three units that you have there. I have solid readings still being returned by the resonator - sorry, I can't help it. That's just what I like to call the Imaging System."

"Jonn, you're babbling. Snap out of it and stay focused."

"Yes, Doctor; I'll try."

"Good. Now do we have any kind of telemetry on Charles?"

"The only thing that I can confirm is that his transponder is working and that he is precisely below your location. The depth readings are coming back, odd. They don't make any sense whatsoever. I am confident that he is getting our transmissions, but he is either ignoring them or has turned off his com unit." Jonn busied himself checking and re-checking equipment, trying to account for anomalies.

"Roger that. Stay online, and keep recording our chatter. We may need to go through the tapes later. We're going down the Hole. We'll keep counting and reporting our depths until we hit the bottom." She glanced at her fellow geologists, Lauren and Phil. Both nodded with confidence.

"Affirmative. Copy that, Jonn out."

"Alrighty; here we go, ready or not. Let's go down into the Hole."

One by one, the three geologists lowered down into the deep shaft. On the surface, it was loud with the wind and natural sounds of the plains. But, after a few minutes of descent, the volume rapidly diminished and was replaced by the random rattle of small rocks skittering against outcrops and the steady breathing of the team. The brisk tone of Doctor Rogers rhyming off the depth as they continued on was a metronome to their progress.

Phil, who had taken point, pulled out a flare, popped the igniter and dropped it to the ground below. He didn't watch it fall, he merely continued his descent. Lauren and Barbara close behind him.

Soon, he could see the flare’s harsh spluttering glow, lying at the bottom of the shaft. Galvanized by knowing they were close, he increased his rate of descent. He let go the rope and dropped to the ground with a gentle thud. He looked up at his partners, gauging their progress, the light off of his helmet showering them with brightness.

"Alright, ladies, not far now!" He hollered good-naturedly.

"Yeah, that's fine, Phil. Make sure ya get a good look at me bum while yer down there, OK hun?" Lauren quipped.

"Already well acquainted with it, mah dear. But thankee for acknowledging it!" He grinned as he set about inspecting the lower area of the shaft. He cleared the flare and what little tools that Charles had left carelessly about. Phil frowned at that. Charles was a neat freak. He wouldn't abandon things like this.

Lauren was down next, settling easily to the ground. Barbara followed quickly after. The landing was much wider than the shaft that led to it. Approximately sixteen feet square and easy to accommodate a few people and equipment.

In the corner off to the side, there was a hulking piece of machinery. The winch was of solid heft and could handle a thousand pounds. Currently, it had been deployed to the fullest extent of its rope. The auto cutoff had activated and it was quiet, dormant, waiting expectantly; lurking in the darkness like some mischievous creature.

"How long do you think he's been down there?" Phil asked in hushed tones, his words echoed like in a tomb.

"Not too long. Maybe twenty, thirty minutes tops. If he took his time and hacked at the opening with any degree of care, that is. What do you think of ..?" Barbara gestured at the winch.

"Well, frankly, that puppy has a good five hundred feet of very strong rope on it. From what you've told me, Charles had an additional hunnert and fifty to tie on to it. I'm assumin' from what ya've told me from Jonn, that the cavern beneath us is deeper than that, yes?"

Barbara nodded in the low light. "Then, I have no idea what he's planning on accomplishing. It won't get him down there any further than that. Basically, he should be swinging at the end of a rope in a very large open space, which, in and of itself, shouldn't be there."

"Well then, let's take a look, shall we?"

"Aye."

They moved closer to the opening that had been hacked out of the rock. Originally, they had drilled a hole only four inches wide in order to get some core samples. That was when they discovered that there was dead space below. The high altitude scans, the satellite imaging, the seismic readings, all indicated solid bedrock below, with a good potential of oil below that. Everything pointed to black gold. That hole, however, told a different story.

The hole now was eerily fractured, reminiscent of something trying to claw its way out, rather than the frantic excavation of a geologist of some report. Charles had managed to hack out a hole roughly two feet wide to a foot and a half. This new addition to the shaft continued down through another five feet of solidly compacted sedimentary rock.

"Man; that took a lot of work. I didn't think Charles would have that in him." Lauren said it softly, not wanting to make much noise.

"Yeah; go figure. How's the tension in the line? Is he still attached to it? Can we get a light down there? Anything reflective? Can you see the light from his hard hat?" Barbara spilled out. Nervousness for her friend mixed with concern about the continued status of the project.

"Slow down, slow down. One thing at a time." Phil reached over to the rope, pulling on it gently, swinging it one way and then another with tiny movements. Staring down into the hole, he brought to bear the full beam of light from his hard hat's lamp. Nothing pierced the inky darkness below the lower edge of the hole. He couldn’t even see a trace of Charles' light.

Phil reached into his pocket and withdrew another flare. Lauren put a hand up and shook her head, warning of the potential error of such a choice. Natural gas pockets would not mix well with flares.

"Well, the line still has tension so he's either tied to it or else he's managed to attach a sack of potatoes to the end. I can't see past nothing in the hole." He chuckled at the ridiculousness. Both Lauren and Barbara's expressions were painted with anxiety. Phil acknowledged their concern.

"Barbara, how would like me to proceed? Activate the winch and bring up whatever's attached to the line? Or do we move to another strategy?" He used his most professional voice, the one that he reserved for serious discussions and honored colleagues. It had the desired effect. Barbara shook herself awake and focused on his words.

"Yes, Phil. Pull it up. Let's see what he's gotten himself into."

He reached over to the machine, sliding past Lauren to do so, and flipped a switch to change the direction of the winch. Then he turned the power on and carefully cranked the handle so that the rope would wind at a slow pace. The machine groaned into life and began retrieving its connection back from the depths below. As it did so, Phil kept watch, occasionally guiding the rope so that it wouldn't catch on the edge.

"Well, ladies; this will take a little bit of time. Why don't you fan out and check to see if there is anything of note here as to why he went off like this?" Grunting, he manhandled the line again into alignment.

"Right." Lauren moved back towards the shaft and looked around the sparse space. She picked up tools and moved them into orderly storage on the far side of the chamber.

Barbara checked in with base camp. "Jonn? Can you read me? Are you receiving our audio signals?"

"Doctor Rogers. Yes, I’m receiving your signal. It is faint, but clear. I still show no change in readings. Everything still says there should be tons and tons of rock just below your position."

"Roger that. I was just checking our connection. Keep recording."

"Affirmative. Also of note, the sun has started to rise and the camp is now fully awake and ready to get to work. Is there anything that you would like me to start?"

"Yes; see if you can get a connection with Randolph at the head office."

"Are you sure, Doctor Rogers?" There was an uncomfortable moment. Phil turned and stared at her.

"Yes, I'm positive. Something is not right here, and HO needs to have clear info on the situation prior to worst case scenarios."

"Affirmative, Doctor Rogers." There was the crackle of static and then silence.

"Well, nothing to really report around this lovely little section of the armpit of the world.” Lauren said. “Tools are the only things that were left down here. It’s all stuff that we had left earlier in the day in preparation for today's fun."

Barbara just nodded at her blankly. Lauren continued putting things back in order.

"Well, ladies; it shouldn't be long now. Another minute or two, and this puppy will be hauled up." Phil kept his focus on the rope, preventing any chance of mishap. He gazed down the hole, but still couldn’t see any change in light or movement. However, there was still weight at the end of the rope; that was a good sign. Up came the last of the main heavy-duty rope and he could see the tie off between the added lengths. Briefly, he gazed at the knot combining the two and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Phil had worried that in his haste, Charles might have tied them together poorly.

"Only another hunnert feet ta go, ladies. Won’t be long now."

Barbara looked hungrily down into the hole, thinking of all the things she would say to Charles that might make an impact on his reckless mind. She couldn't nail down anything specifically that would really work, but felt that a major dressing down was definitely in order. She watched the rope continue to coil into the winch, and slowly, foot-by-foot, drag its cargo up.

"Phil, do you see anything in that darkness? Anything moving?" The drone, the waiting was driving Barbara into a state of monomania.

"Uhm, no. Just a big soup of blackness. I'd like ta really know what happened to Charles' lamp. It should be showing light by now."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."

The top strap of the Charles' rigging finally crested the darkness, small shadows lapping away from the new shape of ascent.

Quickly, Charles came into view, the lamp on his hard hat dead. He shivered visibly, while his eyes remained closed. Clasped tightly in his arms, he held an odd object for a geologist to see at the bottom of a new dig: It looked like a book, one of significant age and testament to events dire. Even as his body was pulled higher out of the hole, and Phil swung the armature over to the cavern floor where he could lower Charles to the ground, he remained catatonic.

"Charles! Charles, talk to me!" Barbara spoke passionately. Charles shook violently once again, and his glassy eyes cracked open. His gaze was unfocused, not quite connected to his mind. Slowly, he rounded on Barbara's face, and recognition dawned. A little bit of color returned to his cheeks.

"Barbara?"

"Yes, Charles, it's me. And Phil and Lauren. We're here, you're safe now."

"No, not safe. Never again safe! We have to get out of here. Now. We have to get as far away as we can. Something bad is going to happen. Something really, really bad. We have to go!" He tried to get up, but clumsily fell down. Phil grabbed and stabilized him as Barbara began disengaging Charles from the rig.

"No, leave him in it. We'll tie it off to the rope for the main shaft and pull him up. He's in no shape to climb it now. Lauren, go now, straight up." Phil spoke with urgency.

"Charles, we're going to tie you off to the end of the rope here. We're going to climb up ahead of you. Can you hang on long enough to do that?" Barbara stared deeply into his eyes and wondered what was staring back.

"Yes, yes, I can hold on. It won't matter much though, of this I am sure. There's something evil below this cavern. Hurry, can we go now?"

"Yes, Charles. But what happened down there?"

"I don't know. But that wasn't a place of this world. There was an altar with this book on it, along with this…” He held out an ancient knife. “I think that's blood on it, but it's old, so very old. I'm sorry, but I don't have all of my mind with me right now, but, the only other thing that I'm sure of, is that … It Comes!"

"Clear, Barbara. He's tied off. Lauren should be near the top by now. Come on. If we want to get him to help, we need to move quickly."

"Yes, Phil. Go. I'm right behind you. Charles, only a few minutes, okay? And then we'll have you topside and we can get you some food and drink. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah, sounds great. Will there be milk and cookies?"

"I thought you hated sweets."

"Naw, but I have a craving."

"Ok, well, let's get going then."

"Sure, sure, sure, sure …” Charles drifted off into unconsciousness. “It comes - from beneath, from the ground, from the pages written down. It Comes!"


In-Flight Meal pt.5 by Mark Jackson


The plane skimmed across the trees of a thickly wooded section of Southern Illinois, snapping trunks like toothpicks. The left wing dipped, caught in the trees and burst into a cloud of splinters and steel shrapnel.


The impact rocked the plane like a child’s toy and ripped the wing from the side of the fuselage leaving a gaping hole. The plane twisted and swung to the left causing the right wing to dive into a grove of huge hickories. The wing disappeared in a roar followed by the agonizing scream of shearing metal as the plane was torn in two.

In the cockpit, the eyes of the pilot and copilot glowed with the intensity of a spotlight covered with blood. They had just enough time to recognize the shape of a huge tree before the cockpit disintegrated into a mix of glass, wires and wood. The rest of the front section followed the cockpit into the trees exploding into a huge fire ball, instantly consuming everything within a fifty-yard diameter.

The not so attractive couple, who had managed to strap themselves into their seats just as 5B was coming out of the exhaust side of the tail engine in a pink spray, were incinerated before their minds could even comprehend they were on fire.

Completely disoriented, the last thing Tony remembered before slipping into a calm sea of blackness was flopping back and forth on the seat like a rag doll and hearing the thudding roar of a huge explosion.

#

The instant the plane was torn in two, the back half, including row 13, spun around and smashed through the trees tail first. Then as if an answer to Tony’s prayer, it broke through a stand of soft pines and crashed into a large clearing nearly three hundred yards away from the raging inferno caused by the explosion.

The impact cut a trench into the soft floor of the woods, sending up a brown wave of dirt over fifty feet in the air. When the tail dug in, every window remaining intact exploded outward in a spray of glass. The cargo hold and section housing the remaining passenger seats rippled and compressed backward like an accordion, before twisting sideways and slamming into the ground.

The bolts keeping Tony’s seat in place finally gave way during the sideways twist, causing him and everything else loose in the plane to be vomited out like spoiled meat. Still dangling from his seat, he flew thirty yards before smashing into several small pine trees.

The impact with the trees ripped Tony from the seat belt and twisted his foot one hundred and eighty degrees from its normal position. This white-hot flash of pain rocked him back to consciousness. He hit the ground hard, feeling and hearing at least one rib snap. Tony screamed with all he could manage. He felt the world start to spin, turned his head to one side and vomited on his shoulder before blacking out.

Behind Tony’s motionless body, wires dangled from the wreckage like multicolored snakes, occasionally sparking and sending flashes of light through the trees like the lightning of a distant storm. Below the wires, a huge pocket formed by the twisted metal was slowly filling up with jet fuel dripping from somewhere in the mangled section of the wing.


#

A split second before the plane broke in two, 13A had lunged towards Tony. This last second move was the only thing that kept him from joining the fate of the rest of the front half occupants. He had caught the seat right beside Tony and managed to hang on for the two seconds it took the back part of the plane to veer off from main section.


When it smashed through the pines, he lost his grip and flew like a cowboy thrown from an enraged bull. He went through the first tree suffering no more than a six-inch gash across his back, but the second one caught his left arm in a V shaped branch peeling off all the skin from the elbow down. This twisted him around, and he hit the next one face first, breaking most of the bones in his face and leaving a nice assortment of shark like teeth embedded in the trunk. The impact with the tree left him unconscious and dangling from several of the heavier branches left unbroken during the assault.


#

When Tony opened his eyes, he saw the trees around him lighting up with the flash of photographer’s cameras and knew rescuers had found the plane. His heart leapt to his throat, and with a tremendous effort, he pushed himself up to look back at the crash site where he could see people sorting through the wreckage. "Here!" Tony yelled and then groaned from the pain in his side. Struggling, he lifted a hand, waved at the figures, and then felt his heart drop as he realized the people were only jumping shadows. There were no rescuers, no photographers. Only the smoldering carcass of the plane.


Another flash of light lit up the woods, and Tony saw it was only loose wires that must still be connected to some sort of battery reserve. His heart sank, and he winced at the pain seeming to come from everywhere. He looked at his leg and nearly threw up again when he saw his foot going when it should have been coming. He pulled himself over to a fallen tree and leaned his back against it.

Even at a quarter mile away, he could feel the heat from the fire raging from the other half of the wreckage. Everything had an orange glow. The shadows of the trees flicked and danced around him like demons in a satanic ritual.

He could smell a rancid mix of melted plastic and jet fuel hanging in the air like a poisoned fog. He tried to push himself up when his mind, nearly wiped out with shock, suddenly went back to what was happening just before the crash. Even through the intense pain, he felt his skin crawl.


His heart raced remembering the hideous creatures only moments away from ripping him open to partake in the
in flight meal. He looked around like a cornered animal; the thought of being roasted alive suddenly took a backseat to the thought of what could be watching him from the dark shadows of the woods.

His mind told him something was creeping up on him right now, but all he could see in the faint glow of the fire and the occasional flash of the wires, was twisted trees and large chunks of metal and debris. The crash killed them all, hadn’t it? Although if he was spared and if he survived...

He heard a loud snap followed by a heavy thud. It sounded like it landed somewhere behind the plane. He pulled himself in to a sitting position by using a branch sticking from the tree he was leaning on. Then, enduring more pain than he had ever experienced in his life, he pulled himself up on the tree in an initial effort to move away from the remains of the plane. Sweat poured from his forehead in constant streams, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision. He was trying to focus through the faint light when the wires sparked again, and in the instant of the bright flash, Tony thought he saw something moving from behind the plane and into the trees.


#

13A regained consciousness when the branch bearing most of his weight cracked with a loud snap. Before he had time to get his bearings, the branch broke sending him downward through several smaller branches. Just before hitting the ground, a leafless twig caught him cleanly in one eye sending out a spray of yellow liquid before snapping off.


He slammed to the ground, but knowing the bastard who caused all this had somehow survived allowed him to stifle a scream. A scream may alert him, which just wouldn’t do. No, it wouldn’t do at all.

He pushed himself to his feet and made his way toward the clearing where he could see the piece of shit struggling against a fallen tree. A broken and hideous grin spread on 13A’s face. He could tell the extent of the man’s injuries were significant enough there would be no problem taking care of business.

The remaining teeth in his mouth quivered. Two teeth barely hanging on to the gums fell out, bouncing off his chest and onto the ground. He absently put his skinned hand to his face and wiped away a thick line of yellow fluid running from his left eye socket. Using the cover of darkness, he moved from behind the plane and into the trees.

#

Who’s there?” Tony tried to shout. His broken ribs made breathing difficult and yelling excruciating. “Who’s-” This time when the wires sparked Tony could see who was there, what was there, and terror gripped his heart with a cold, steel fist. 13A was making his way from the trees directly at him. In the brief glances granted by the wires, Tony could see 13A had taken his fair share of damage, but it didn’t seem to be slowing him down.

Only ten yards from Tony, 13A stretched out his arm and pointed at him. Large flaps of skin dangled from around his elbow, and the finger-pointing at him was nothing more than bone stained pink with blood.

“I am going to enjoy killing you more than you can imagine, and it won’t be quick, I can promise you that.” His voice growled and bubbled as it spilled from his grotesque mouth. His teeth were vibrating like they did on the plane, but now were much slower and jerky. A tooth working its way from his mouth caught on his bottom lip, splitting it open like a bloated grub.

Tony tried to scream again and pushed himself away from the horror moving towards him. When he did, he fell backwards over the tree, sending fresh pain through his leg and chest. The tree blocked out his view, but through the crackling of the wires, he could hear demented laughter coming closer.

The periodic bursts of light had turned to a constant flicker seeming to burn the trees with silver fire. From over the log, Tony saw 13A’s ruined face look down at him. His bottom lip was gone. His one good eye burned bright red casting a light on Tony’s face like the laser site from a gun.

13A stood up straight, stretched out his arms and howled up at the sky. Tony knew he was only seconds away from being torn to pieces and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears to try to block out the hideous screech.

Behind them, the harness holding the writhing wires to the crumpled wing, silently gave way, sending them downward like a coil of angry snakes. Still spitting sparks, they landed directly in the pool of jet fuel below.

What happened next never clearly registered in Tony’s mind. The air suddenly crackled like static blasting from a PA system. He felt every hair on his body stand straight out as all of the air was sucked from his lungs. Above him, 13A stood with one foot on the ground and one on top of the log. His one eye widened in seeming understanding.

The concussion of the explosion burst Tony’s right eardrum and sent hot spurts of blood from both nostrils. A chunk of metal the size of a small car screamed through the air just above Tony’s head and smashed through the trees behind him. On its way by, it turned 13A into nothing more than a bad memory. The impact of nearly a ton of steel moving at roughly the speed of sound, transformed 13A’s brain to pulp before the idea of getting out of the way even started to become a thought. One foot, with the leg from the knee down still attached, lie twitching in the dirt while the other took a one way ride with the hunk of metal.

Small fires crackled all around Tony, but enough clearing had taken place with the initial crash that singed hair and first-degree burns were as close as he got to being burned alive. He made a brief attempt to push himself up, but pain and exhaustion overpowered any will he had left.


He felt his head start to swim as the trees above him spun in slow circles. Consciousness was slipping away fast, but before it overtook him, the faintest trace of a smile crossed his bloodstained lips when he heard the far-off and sweet sound of sirens drifting through the woods.


The End