Birthday - Part 1

    With a scream, Ludwig' legs gave out from beneath him and dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
    His arms were locked and his jaw was spasming against the electric current that was arcing through his body, setting his nerves on fire. However, the pain wasn't severe, just restrictive.
    Ludwig's scream was more of defiance than anything else.
    Staff Sergeant Coughlin smirked and gave the downed private a swift kick in the ass. Not hard, but enough to get his attention through the haze of the zapper.
    "What the hell did I tell you about checking your corners?" she said with a disciplinary tone. "That's the third time this month."
    Ludwig growled in response, but given his locked jaw, she doubted he'd be able to say anything intelligible.
    She moved on.
    Coughlin crossed an alley and ducked under an over hang. She could hear the patrol moving slowly and carefully. That was good. But it did annoy her that she could hear them at all. She'd have to chew them out for that.
    Slithering under the low cover of old supply crates, she creeped to the edge and saw an entire fireteam.
    Gorman, Xi, Nunez, and Quinn were all in the alley not twenty meters away. Quinn and Xi were quietly bickering over something...that was hardly new. Corporal Quinn was fireteam leader, but that didn't stop Xi from trying to interject her will and be an all around pain in the ass.
    The flip side was that Gorman and Nunez were waiting quietly, guns trained on the empty alley. Their eyes were scanning the gloomy fog like hungry raptors.
    But the bitching had them distracted.
    She'd have to talk to them about that too.
    Pulling the shock grenade, she yanked the pin hard, but held on to it. Cooking the fuse inside for an extra second or two. And, once she felt the timing was right, she slid the grenade along the wet stone floor right between the four of them.
    She was already disappearing into the darkness when Nunez frantically scream "GRENADE!"
    Of course, they didn't have time to react. The cooked grenade went off before they had so much as twitched.
    All four hit the ground with shouts of anger and shock promptly followed by the clatter of armor on stone.
    Coughlin was tempted to give them all a quick kick like she had with Ludwig, but restrained herself. There was still one man unaccounted for and she'll be damned if he wasn't the biggest threat.
    Dixon.
    Sergeant Bullock's fireteam had been dealt with pretty easily, although they at least put up more of a fight than Corporal Quinn's had. They had been ready and focused and had gotten a few pot shots off before she zapped them.
    Kuroba's team on the other hand...
    She had found Kuroba and Cooper stalking the alleys with Cooper bitching about 'just letting them go'. After quickly disabling both of them, she realized that Ludwig and Dixon were unaccounted for.
    It wasn't the first time it had happened. Neither of them played well with others and Ludwig had been taken out just as easily as Kuroba, but Dixon was another story.
    Sliding from the cover, her eyes scanned the foggy rooftops.
    Nothing. Just darkness.
    For the first time in the drill, she felt her heart rate increase. Her squad was good and they all knew the reason she put them through these exercises was to make them even better. No. To make them the best. But there was something about Dixon that always stood out.
    Something predatory.
    Something frightening.
    The Designated Marksman had risen through the ranks faster than any other soldier she had commanded. He'd been put through sniper school immediately after boot due to his aptitude and passed with colors not shortly after. While he'd been on his own sniper team, he'd been busted down and reassigned to Coughlin for 'classified reasons'. She'd raised holy hell about not being told why, but was still quickly satisfied with the results he provided.
    Coughlin glanced down on the readout for her zapper-rifle, confirmed, and started slowly moving through the alleys; keeping to as much cover as she could find.
    The man was a hunter through and through. While he had a bad tendency of breaking off from his fireteam, often with Ludwig going along to act as his unofficial spotter, she couldn't argue with the results. Honestly, they were a little scary sometimes.
    But he got the job done.
    And so, for the sixth time in the last second, her eyes scanned the rooftops and the windows.
    Little did she know that her own knowledge of the DM was working against her. She was so focused above that she failed to think of her own trick being used against her. Down the alley, a good fifty meters out, a single rifle barrel was extended through a large pile of garbage.
    She'd passed by it earlier, literally meters away, when she'd felled Ludwig.
    He just hadn't been ready to strike yet.
    And so, as she stalked, and as she hunted, Dixon held the rifle steady. He had walls on all sides, appropriate camouflage, and, in this environment, only a single target.
    He squeezed the second trigger.
    Coughlin only saw the glint of the barrel a split second before the gunshot.
    She hit the ground screaming in fury as the electricity arced through her body.
    A few moments later, her nerves shot and her body smoking, the dark-skinned sniper appeared over her; his rifle slung over his shoulder, his eyes malicious.
    "Happy Birthday, Staff Sergeant." Dixon said condescendingly with an outstretched hand to help her up.

Survivors - Part 3

    Dr. Connel led Cisneros and Dr. Patang through the door and into the lab.
    The first thing that Cisneros noticed was the smell.
    Despite the heavy presence of anti-septic and bleach in the air, the stench was overpowering. It reminded him of wood-rot and rotten eggs somehow blended together into something worse; a very earthy that stuck to the back of his throat and seemed to slide down and make him want to gag. His stomach lurched and rolled a moment later.
    It clearly was showing on his face.
    "Well that's...uhhh..."
    "Yea. Smells like shit doesn't it?"
    "I think shit is more appealing."
    "Doctor, where did that smell come from?" Dr. Patang, an equal look of disgust twisting his features. "I know it wasn't here when I left to retrieve the Assistant Director."
    "Well, that's what happens when you're gone for so long."
    Cisneros glanced at Dr. Patang who was quickly turning a deep shade of crimson. The man looked even more fidgety and uncomfortable than before. He had to idly wonder if Dr. Patang wasn't just a brown noser for executives, but for literally anyone higher than him. It sure did seem like he didn't have a spine.
    "Either way, you'll find out shortly." Dr. Connel continued. "Let me show you what I was talking about."
    She motioned down a long hall set up with a number of observation areas on either side. One side was dominated by the massive monster they had seen earlier. The opposite side had more windows and more monsters.
    All of the ones on the left seemed notably smaller than the first creature. Bipedal by nature but just as hideous.
    And everywhere, in almost every room, men and women in full hazmat suits worked diligently.
    Cisneros kept walking.
    "Doctor Connel..." Dr. Patang began.
    "I'll explain what you're seeing better once I've shown you their larval and nesting stages first. It'll make more sense starting from bottom to top versus the other way around."
    Patang quickly grew quiet again, but Cisneros was not so easily subdued.
    "They have multiple life cycles then?" he asked pointedly with a tone that told her he was not to be pushed around like Patang.
    "Yes. We initially thought of their life cycles almost like the Spider Wasp from Earth, but quickly realized that comparison just wasn't accurate."
    As if on cue, they walked by an observation area that was darker than the others and immediately stood out. Cisneros stared at in in confusion for a split second before he realized that the walls, floors, and even the ceiling and lights were coated in viscera.
    "Not even a little accurate." Dr. Connel repeated as she followed their gaze around the bloodied room and quickly began walking again.
    "I'm sorry, but humor me. What's a Spider Wasp and how is their life cycle different?"
    "A Spider Wasp is an insectoid creature from Earth that immobilizes and lays eggs in the body of a spider; the most common being the tarantula." Dr. Patang quickly chimed in. "The eggs hatch and the larvae eat the paralyzed Tarantula."
    "Gruesome." Cisneros observed.
    "Very." Dr. Connel agreed. "But, while there are similarities, we were quickly shown that the analogy just wasn't close enough."
    "How so?"
    Dr. Connel didn't answer. Instead led them around a bend in the hall back towards another large operating theater labeled '2-D'. All the while, the stench grew worse and worse.
    For a brief moment, Cisneros believed that this room was similar to the one before. Covered in blood and bits, it had a similar darkened look to it as the overhead lights were mostly covered with gore. However, peering through the haze, he quickly realized this was very different then the remains of violence he'd seen before.
    For one, the walls were moving.
    A thick, viscous substance covered the walls, floors, and ceiling. It was intermingled with the viscera that he'd noted, but it was definitely different. It had a thick, fleshy appearance that made Cisneros feel like he was staring at the inside of an intestine.
    And somewhere in the darkness, he could see something moving.
    "God. Damn."
    "Right?" Dr. Connel asked rhetorically. "Took them a matter of hours to set this up. A few of the other nerds have nicknamed it 'The Nest'."
    Cisneros leaned against the glass.
    "What am I seeing here, Doctor?"
    "One of the organisms we brought aboard created this." she stated calmly. "It was one of two that were found alive. We put it in here and, a couple of hours later..."
    "What's all the gore? An accident?"
    "The creature."
    Cisneros looked at her sideways for a moment.
    "We reviewed the state of the creature when it entered. Other than being heavily sedated, it was also the most healthy. However, shortly after containment it collapsed and..." she grimaced. "...exploded. The larvae were birthed from there and, shortly after, the drones did the rest."
    He looked inside again and focused on the movement in the dark. He could barely make it out, but squinting he could see something that resembled a large and spindly Japanese Spider Crab. Long legs, big claws, and a hard, armored body.
    It was working on something unseen.
    "Where the hell'd the drone come from? That was inside the creature as well?" Dr. Patang demanded.
    "Not exactly. It was birthed from one of the larvae."
    "Start at the beginning, Doctor. Neither of us are following your train of thought."
    "Fine. Through a...well, let's say through an accident, we quickly found out that exposure to the creatures' blood has very unwanted infectious qualities. Even in death, the microscopic larva will bury into exposed flesh and start quickly having an effect on the patient's neural pathways."
    Cisneros arched a brow but said nothing. Something told him there was going to be a lot of paperwork he'd be dealing with in a week.
    "Most immediately, they feel hot. The exposure feels almost like a burning and, within minutes, the hosts, for lack of a better term, begin to feel like they are running an intense fever. Funny enough, their core body temperature doesn't raise until later." she observed off hand. "They then quickly develop hallucinations, relative insanity, and then catatonia."
    "From there, two alterations happen." she said, holding up two fingers. "One: the parasites begin to infect the host on a genetic level, changing the creature's very DNA. Two: newer, larger parasites begin to grow around and within the primary organs."
    "Once the genetic transformation is complete, the host has taken on a completely brand new form. Likewise, the secondary larvae have grown to about a half foot to a foot long. So far we've observed a half dozen or so within a fresh subject."
    "And this is when they pop?" Cisneros asked with a grimace.
    "Oh no, this is when they try to capture more hosts." Dr. Connel said with just a little bit too much enthusiasm. "We suspect that they don't 'pop', as you put it, unless they are exposed to an environment where a nest or hive is not readily available."
    Cisneros rolled the information around in his head before asking.
    "We're going to be having a long discussion about missing personnel later, aren't we?"
    "Yes."
    He clicked his tongue in annoyance, but filed that away for further consideration.
    "So, just to confirm what you're saying: these things can infect another creature. I'm going to guess that includes humans based on what you just said. They then transform into something else. If they don't have a nest, one of them explodes and the larvae inside make one...meaning that literally any one of these things could make a nest?"
    "Yep."
    "But it destroys the host in the process?"
    "Mmhmm."
    "So all you need is two to create an possibly infectious situation."
    "One."
    Cisneros considered the math for a minute. He felt like he was missing something.
    "One could create the nest. But where would your theoretical monsters come from that would do the rest of the work? That would create drones and gather new hosts?"
    Dr. Connel smiled that same wicked smile as something hulking and monstrous emerged from the darkness.

Survivors - Part 2

    Cisneros felt as if he was frozen in place.
    His muscles were locked and some baser part of his mind had kicked into overdrive. Despite the triple-state glass and a well manicured sense of superiority, some instinctual piece of him froze in terror.
    "What-?" was all he managed.
    In front of him, behind the seemingly too-thin safety glass, a monster lay across a massive surgical table.
    No.
    Not one surgical table.
    Several of them. All hastily thrown together to form some semblance of a flat surface where the scientists could work.
    The creature was quite large. At least a couple meters tall and several meters long not counting the muscular tail, it could easily rival some of the large African species of Earth. However, unlike those more benevolent herbivores, this ting was designed for carnage.
    Four heavy set legs with taloned feet were curled up under its dead frame. Long, sickle like blades sprouted from thin but powerful looking 'arms' from its thick torso. Its eyes were covered in heavy ridges and everything about its head seemed to slope into a gaping jaw filled with multiples rows of shark-like teeth. And the entire thing was covered in hulking plates of black, chitinous armor that looked like they could stop an rocket.
    Men and women in lab coats poked and prodded at the corpse, but despite a sneaking fear that the monster would arise and attack them all, it laid silent upon its bloody table.
    "What-" Cisneros began again as he mentally rebuilt his composure. "-is it?"
    "We don't know." Dr. Patang responded apologetically. "We've never seen anything like it."
    "What do we know about it?" he asked without looking at the good doctor.
    Cisneros studied the thing for a long moment. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.
    "We're still working on an official analysis."
    Cisneros glanced over and the Doctor who visibly cringed a little. He considered throwing his weight and demanding a better answer of the little asskisser, but thought better of it.
    "Humor me."
    "Apparently the team was getting odd results. I've been with you so I haven't seen the most up to date..."
    Cisneros sighed and continued to watch the men and women work.
    "Dr. Hagashi must have been out of his mind." he commented with a hint of annoyance.
    "Sir?"
    "I just can't imagine why they would have brought this thing aboard. I don't doubt it was an exciting find, but look at it."
    As if in response, Dr. Patang joined him in staring at the mound of terror.
    At the same time, the door on the far end of the room slid open and a short, lump of a woman clad in a white lab coat emerged.
    "I mean, that thing looks like it could tear a squad of marines in half without breaking a sweat. Why in the hell would they take it aboard? Why not study it on the surface? Or tag it for later examination by a more qualified team?"
    "Perhaps-" the woman interjected. "-because it wasn't that size when they acquired our little friend in there."
    Cisneros glowered at the woman's interruption but his expression quickly softened.
    "Samantha." he said with a smile.
    "Armando."
    "I wasn't aware you were on this project." Cisneros regarded.
    "Then you probably aren't doing a good job as Assistant Director." she chided with a playful grin.
    "Dr. Connel." Patang said with respect to the woman. "With all due respect, what do you mean? Are you suggesting it grew within a matter of hours?"
    "In one sense."
    Both men continued to stare at her, expecting more.
    "Tell me, Dr. Patang, how would you classify that creature in there?" Dr. Connel asked.
    Dr. Patang considered for a moment.
    "I'm not sure. It definitely appears to be carnivorous in nature. Omnivous at the absolute least."
    "And the genus?"
    "Demented centaur?" Cisneros offered.
    Samantha giggled and Cisneros allowed himself a smile at his old friend's amusement.
    "What if I told you that it was parasitic?" she asked after a moment.
    Cisneros stared at the monster sprawled across the operating tables. Considered the sheer size of the thing.
    "You're saying that creature in there is some sort of a parasite? For what? What the hell would it feed on?"
    "That is not the primary organism. I was referring to this."
    Dr. Connel produced from her jacket pocket a small glass jar about the size of a nectarine. She held it up to the light and it was clearly filled with some sort of blood. It was a nice deep red with the exception of several dozen large, black globules that floated around in the viscous liquid.
    Cisneros stared at the goo, trying to identify the shapes in the blood. It was only after a long moment that he realized the globes were creatures.
    "So this is our culprit?" Cisneros asked with burgeoning fascination.
    Here and there, one of the globes would unfurl into a small, worm like creature. Their appearance reminded him of the beast on the table, nothing but hard bits and sharp edges, but on a notably smaller scale and resembling a half inch caterpillar.
    "Indeed. I think the team from the Icarus found these things on the surface and didn't know what they had until it was too late.
    Before his eyes, one of the worms unfolded and zipped around the blood jar at a surprising speed. It swirled about for a few seconds and, finding no exit, curled up on itself again.
    Cisneros glanced back again at the monster on the table.
    "So tell me, Dr. Connel: what do those-" he said pointing a finger at the jar. "-have to do with that?" he motioned over his shoulder.
    "I'm so glad you asked." she responded with a surprisingly threatening smile and motioned towards the door to the lab. "Let me show you."

Heat - Final

    Stalks of corn seemed to reach out to grab for George as he ran with all the strength in his body. Dry edges and broad leaves clawed at his arms and legs and threatened to trip him up and leave him in the monster's grasp.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    The sound of a runaway train galloped behind him as the thing pursued. His head start had only given him an extra matter of seconds. Now the beast closed in with terrifying speed.
    And the ground shook as it got closer.
    George's legs pumped furiously, but he knew it was worthless. The thing was too fast, but that was part of his very mediocre plan.
    Let it chase him.
    He reached out and grabbed a handful of stalks with his left hand. He could feel the corn tearing from the ground, but it gave him some of the leverage he needed. Pivoting and pulling, he yanked his entire body hard and spun. He hit the ground hard and rolled out of the beast's path as it barreled by far too fast to grab him.
    Its scythe claws swung worthlessly over his head.
    Cradling his broken right hand, he pushed himself out of the debris and took off running again. This time at a 90 degree angle away from the thing's path as it slid and skidded through the corn field, trying ineffectively to slow down.
    Another extra few seconds.
    Another sprint as hard as he could.
    His lungs burned. His body ached. He was bleeding from at least a couple of scrapes and cuts on his arms and face. But it didn't matter.
    He had to keep it distracted.
    And maybe, just maybe, get away.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    The sound came up from behind and to his right.
    George dove forward, landing belly up on the stalks that scratched his skin, jabbed him in more places than he could count, and knocked the wind out of him.
    And once again, the beast flew past him, a force of destruction fueled by tremendous weight and speed; taking an entire swath out of the field as it did.
    It slowed, faster this time, but still not fast enough.
    Barely able to breathe, and his limbs violently shaking, he took off running again at another sharp, contradictory angle.
    In the haze of exhaustion and panic, he heard something. A wooshing sound of some kind from the sky. It didn't mean anything to his numbed mind, but it registered for some reason.
    It was something important.
    But not important enough.
    His breath was ragged now. He was coughing and gagging more than he was breathing now. He was strong and had endurance, but he wasn't a track star and the sheer terror and effort was having an effect on his untrained body.
    George's feet stumbled and gave out beneath him.
    furrumpfurrumpfurruMP
    He could hear it coming.
    Hell, he could feel it coming.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    Reaching down with his uninjured hand, he pushed off on the dry dirt hard and rolled to the side.
    A massive foot slammed down an inch away from his head as the thing failed to catch him yet again and went crashing by.
    George went to pull himself up again and found himself barely able to do so.
    The thing was already turning by the time he was able to stand.
    Still, he tried to run. And quickly realized he could barely walk.
    Another wooshing sound; this one louder with a loud hiss. It came from the field behind him where the ship had been found. Another monster perhaps? What the hell was that sound?
    It didn't matter.
    He kept going. Half jogging, half stumbling, towards the edge of his field. He couldn't keep going and some part of him told him to get to the edge of the field.
    He just had to get to the edge of the field.
    "Lel-!" he tried to yell for his wife, only to his voice disappear; hitching in his chest and cut off by a coughing fit.
    She had to get away, wherever she was.
    Only then, George realized he could see her.
    Lelena was there, just outside of the field. She was dirty but otherwise unharmed. And she looked like she was yelling at someone and pointing at the field with the barrel of her revolver.
    Who was she yelling at? he absently wondered.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    Unconsciously, George dove forward. He hit the ground hard and, for the second time, felt his breath escape him.
    Only too late, in the haze, he forgot to roll out of the way.
    He tried to push himself to the side, but too slowly this time.
    His right arm was destroyed under the weight of one of the beast's clawed feet and thrown into the air as the thing galloped past once again and back out into the open.
    Back where Lelena was.
    But George couldn't think. He couldn't feel. His mind was alight in the fire of agony from having his arm torn off and he was screaming.
    He couldn't hear his wife yelling at the marshals and their marine contingent. He couldn't hear the thunderous echo of pulse and gauss rifles that punched through the monster's hard carpace. He didn't feel the thing's spray of vile blood or the thud as the beast fell to the ground; poisoning the very dirt it lay upon.
    He didn't even remember the face of Lelena and the marine medic by her side hovering over him or his trip to medical facility nearby.
    All he remembered was the pain.
    And, lingering up from the depths of his belly, an odd sensation that his body felt entirely too hot.

Heat - Part 4

    The thing chittered excitedly as it moved with heavy thuds away from George and over towards where he believed his wife was hidden. He felt his gut twist and he wanted desperately to do something to keep it away from her.
    She'd already shot it and it didn't seem to do more than piss it off. What was she thinking?
    That she wanted it to get away from you. Just like you want it to get away from her.
    He mentally cursed himself. He cursed his wife. He cursed whatever the fuck that thing was.
    chunkssshhrrrr
    George heard something. It reminded him immediately of a hoe being dragged through dirt and leaves. He listened for a few moments, trying to understand what it was before he decided to risk it.
    As carefully as possible, he tried to move some of the stalks so he could look in the direction of the sound and his wife. Every creak and crack of the fallen corn made his heart jump into his throat but the monster never seemed to notice.
    He managed to clear a tiny seam to look through.
    The beast, with its large, scythe-tipped limbs, was clawing through the corn. The 'hoe' thought seemed appropriate as it was punching the blades into the ground and dragging them backwards through the debris as it searched.
    Luckily, it didn't seem to have found Lelena yet.
    Instead it was aimlessly clawing at several large piles of corn. It hissed under its breath, sounding almost annoyed as it did. Any number of the piles could contain his wife and any second he could hear her scream out in pain and...
    He shook his head.
    He had to do something.
    But what?
    Lelena had said that the marshals were coming, but god knows when they would actually show up.
    Would they think this was a priority?
    It didn't matter. He had to help her before it found her.
    A thousand scenarios ran through his mind and none of them really ended well. This thing was huge, fast, and could probably tear him in two without a second thought.
    But Lelena was in trouble.
    Through the crack in the corn, he glanced back towards the house and up towards where the ship had crashed.
    The inferno had cleared and there were still the massive clouds of smoke. Maybe he could try to lose it in the smoke? It hadn't really shown any indication of being bothered by it, but he wasn't paying attention either.
    Still, the only thing over there other then the crashed ship was open fields. This thing moved like a freight train and hit like one too. Caught out in the open, he'd be dead in an instant.
    The beast chortled angrily and stabbed its claws into another downed pile of corn. George winced at the sight but nothing came of it.
    The house?
    He could make out the great wooden building just over the edge of the corn. It was sturdy and well built to survive the planet's severe winter storms. Everything on Shone III was. If he could make it to the house, maybe it would be enough to barricade inside. Maybe it wasn't strong enough to get in.
    Maybe.
    His kids were likely in there. Did he risk their lives on this hunch? And that would leave Lelena locked outside with that thing. Trapped in the field and...
    The field.
    He watched the monster as it clawed angrily through yet another lump of corn. There wasn't much left to search, which meant it would find his wife soon.
    But it hadn't found her.
    Whatever senses this beast had, at the very least, it seemed to hunt primarily by sight. It was big and strong and mean, but it hadn't tried to sniff her out or anything of the sort. Maybe it was just taking its time. Or maybe the insane plan he had just thought of would work.
    God, if you're listening, don't let Lelena follow me. Let her and the kids get out of here and let the marshals smoke this thing. And, if you got the time, keep this thing off my ass while you do. Nothing personal, just don't care to join you yet.
    George glanced up at the thing.
    There was only a single pile of fallen debris left.
    Lelena would be in it.
    Fuck it. Amen.
    Exploding from his hiding place, he crossed the couple of yards in an instant and did the first thing that came to mind to get its attention.
    He socked the thing in the back of the head.
    It screeched in anger and surprise while, simultaneously, he felt the bones in his hand splinter into a hundred pieces. Its screams were joined by his own as he howled in pain from the sound breaking of every bone in fist.
    But, rather than be paralyzed by the agony of having just punched what felt like a plastisteel door, his howls turned from ones of pain to ones of fury and George took off running. Not towards the house or towards the smoldering ship, but deeper into the field. Where everything was thick and mazelike and he might lose the beast in the endless rows.
    He ran as fast as he ever had in his life.
    And the thing followed.

Heat - Part 3

    The thing, shoved carefully into the back of the spacecraft, began to chitter softly as it pulled itself forward from the back of the cabin.
    "George?" Lelena called again before coughing against the smoke and heat.
    She was far enough away that she could barely make him out through the billowing smoke. With the flames extinguished, the clouds dominated the area, choking and blinding them both.
    But George didn't notice. His attention was in front of him.
    Sharp, sickle-like blades, tipping the edges of long, gangly limbs hooked themselves around the exterior door. They dug into the metal with ease. The beast pulled itself forward with a sticky, sliding sound and a soft, chittering hiss.
    "There you are!" Lelena shouted, squinting through the smoke. "I've called the marshals and told them what happened. They're on their way here!"
    George glanced at his wife for just the briefest of seconds and then back at the horror unfolding from the ship's entrance. He didn't dare tear his eyes away from the monstrosity for a moment more.
    And Lelena noticed it.
    "Honey?" she asked.
    Aside from the scythe-like arms, it walked on four legs; giving George the impression of a twisted centaur. Powerful jaws opened and closed behind slime covered teeth that were hidden under deadly, fanged mandibles. A long, lashing tail smashed against the inside of the craft and further mutilated the soldiers' bodies inside.
    And those eyes.
    Deep and cavernous, like staring into pits. They glew softly in the black smoke, only drawing more attention to their soulless gaze. A foreign, terrible intelligence glinted at the edges of their ebony pools.
    hiiiiiiissssaaragragragRAGRAGRAG
    The creature seemed almost to laugh as it unfolded itself just outside of the craft's door. It was as tall as the ship, a good ten feet. George couldn't help but wonder how the beast had fit into the cramped space, much less with a half dozen armored soldiers.
    BBOOMIARNG!
    The gunshot ricocheted off the thing's carpaced head and it let out a deafening screech. George jumped in surprise as the creature shook itself and clawed at its face where it had been hit. While there was no blood, there was a streak across its hard shell.
    He glanced back to see Lelena, sidearm in hand, with a look of terror and determination on her face.
    "RUN, STUPID!" she yelled.
    And so George ran.
    Lelena took two more shots before they both took off towards the fields. The shots were drastically less effective than before and it didn't even seem to notice the third bullet. They bounced off like the thing was made of solid plastisteel. It locked eyes on its attacker and pursued.
    They were just climbing the wooden fence when it began to barrel after them.
    The ground shook and shuddered with each step. It made George think of a runaway train and, not a moment later, it proved just how true that analogy was.
    Lelena and George had just entered the endless rows of corn a mere seconds after passing the fence, when the beast caught up and went through the barrier. The ironwood splintered like it were made out of loosely-held together toothpicks and George felt more than a couple embed themselves in his neck, back, and arms as shrapnel was sent flying.
    The beast barely slowed down.
    It slammed by them, throwing them to either side. George hit the ground with a soft crack. He grimaced and yelped, wondering if had broken something, only to be buried a moment later by a rain of corn stalks as the creature's tail cut away entire swaths of crop.
     He was about to push himself back up when he heard it slide to a stop. The loud crashing suggesting that it took half the field with it.
    For a breath, all was silent. Then, slowly, it begin to tromp its way back in his direction.
    George elected not to unbury himself.
    There was, of course, the chance that the thing knew exactly where he was. Or Lelena. But, covered in corn and hidden under the hot, scratchy stalks, hiding seemed a better idea.
    He could hear it moving around. It was so heavy, but moved with surprisingly grace. A constant, low hiss seemed to be interjected only by a trilling purr that punctuated a soft clawing at the felled corn.
    It sounded like it was hunting for them. And if it was hunting, it didn't know where they were. At least to a degree.
    As the thing moved closer, he thought about his wife; hidden somewhere unseen nearby, and muttered a silent prayer to no one in particular. He held his breath as the beast stepped directly over him.
    That was when he heard the click of his wife's gun cock.
    And so did the creature.

Heat - Part 2

    The orange-red flames roared with unyielding intensity and the world seemed to devolve into a twirling maelstrom of heat, pressure, and smoke.
    George held his arm up in front of his eyes, but it didn't seem to do much.
    The closer he got to the ship, the worse it got.
    The ship's automated systems were already hard at working deploying fire-foam and many of the flames were extinguished with undignified slurps as the foam bubbled up from the damaged hull. Still, while the fire wasn't out of control, he felt himself glancing nervously back at the edge of his fields and the dried out stalks.
    He didn't have much of his crop left. It would be a damn shame to lose it to this.
    George shook his head at the thought.
    He tried to push forward again, to get closer to the dying spacecraft, but still found that it was too hot. More and more fires were going out, but he just couldn't progress into the wall of heat without feeling sick and dizzy.
    So he waited.
    The ship in front of him was relatively small. It didn't really look like it was space worthy even before it took a nose dive through the atmosphere. It was circular, and bulky, with a blunt nose and heat shields just about everywhere he could see. The thing was built like a bullet. No windows, no wings, and, from what little George knew about ships, some pretty weak looking engines.
    Honestly, it would surprise him if something like this could get off the ground.
    Plus, it was small. For all the fire and damage it had wrought, it looked to only be slightly bigger than his truck. He wouldn't expect more than a dozen people could be sardined into that thing at one time.
    Where'd you come from? he thought to himself, staring at the blocky chunk of metal.
    Maybe he could get a better idea if he could see some of the decals or logos on the ship's hull, however that was a moot point. The fire suppressant system continued to belch out foam all over the surface of the craft, putting out progressively more and more of the inferno that covered it. The foam, coupled with the dirt, grime, and ash from the ship's crash-landing obscured just about any finer details there were to see.
    He stood there for another long minute, just watching the craft, when he started to notice the waves of heat that had been coming off of the thing seemed to be diminishing. It was still sweltering, but he didn't feel like he was standing in hell itself.
    George stepped closer. And, as he did, the ship let out a long, dying hiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssssss.
    He stopped short, trying to find the source of the sound. A moment later, a cloud of white gas burst from the crater and the edges of a door appeared on the outer edge.
    The door hissed again and tried to open, only to get stuck after a few inches. George started to move forward again only to catch himself.
    Who's ship was this? Why was it here?
    A resounding BANG echoed on the door, as if someone hit it with a sledgehammer, and the metal frame buckled. The door fell forward and slammed into the dirt and the thing behind it went with it.
    At first, George thought it might have been some kind of robot. Easily 7 to 8 feet tall, the thing laying on the door had two arms, two legs, and a head, but that was the only thing 'human' about it. Everything else was hard metal, whirring gears, and flashing lights.
    It was also covered in blood and had massive gouges carves out of it here and there.
    It wasn't until George really thought about what he was seeing that he was able to put his thoughts together. This thing was a military hardskin. An exoskeleton that soldiers wore in combat. The massive armor could stop pretty much all small arms fire and make it so the men and women wearing them could literally walk through hell and back again without a scratch on them.
    So why did this one look like he'd been through a meat grinder?
    "Hello?" he yelled at the hardskin. "You ok?"
    There was no response.
    George couldn't move any closer to the ship. It was still far too hot and, even being as close as he was, he felt sick and like his skin was going to start blistering just standing there. So instead, he circled slightly to see inside.
    He immediately wished he hadn't.
    Even just moving to the side, he saw that the downed soldier was one of several. He could make out at least four others shoved into the tiny compartment. There might have been more, but George couldn't make it out through the blood.
    It looked as if a mad-man with a chainsaw had been doing ballet in the closed space. Every soldier that he could make out had been torn apart. They lay here and there in pools of their own viscera. Broken faceplates, shredded armor, missing limbs. And all of it had been sprayed around the inside of the cabin.
    George, who prided himself on being a strong redback who busted his ass outdoors everyday and being better than any of those 'slickers' in the core worlds, promptly fell to his knees and threw up right there in the field.
    hisssssssssgrrrrrrrrrongh
    His stomach was still heaving when he heard the noise. He tried to look up, only to vomit some more.
    hiiiiiiSSSSCRA!
    Spittle still on his lips and tears in his eyes, George glanced back to the ship and realized there was something moving inside. He had missed it at first, mistaking it for a pile of gore in the back of the darkened ship. However, now, plain as day, he saw something pulling itself up from the far end of the craft.
    And it was like a monster out of a madman's worst nightmares. A thing of teeth and claws and glowing eyes and armor. A thing of sharp edges, pain, and death. A thing that easily stood taller than the hardskinned soldiers and filled the far end of the cabin.
    A thing that was softly hissing and staring him dead in the eyes.
    "George?" he heard Lelena calling from somewhere behind him.
    He did not call back.