THE THING II: Hawke Station

Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.

With this chapter, the story has now switched over to an M-Rating, for swearing, violence, gore, blood, and dark humor.

Also, like John Carpenter's film, many characters in this story are taken from the original novella, Who Goes There? Barclay, Van Wall, Pomroy, Samuel Dutton, Ralsen, Kinner, Connant, Harvey, and Bart Caldwell are all characters found in the original story, along with Macready, Blair, Garry, Vance Norris, Clark, Benning(s), and Dr. Copper from John Carpenter's film.

Chapter 06: Face Value

Date: Winter of 1982 - 1983

United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"

Martin Crenna slowly walked into the dining room of Hawke Station with a troubled look on his face. He walked over to the coffee machine and set it up to percolate before grabbing a mug from a cabinet. He quietly looked around the room, seeing it empty. Normally, the room would have had signs of life when Kinner and Reynolds got up before everyone else. Kinner was in the kitchen, but Reynolds was... nowhere.

Crenna quietly sat down at a table and waited for his coffee to finish. He brought his hands up to his face and groaned in frustration. Soon, he heard foot steps approaching from the hallway.

Turning his head, Crenna saw Hendry walk into the dining room. "Morning, Martin," Hendry said with a nod of his head. "Morning, Charles," Crenna replied. "So... sleep well?" Hendry asked the geologist. "Not really. I, uh, had a bit of a nightmare," Crenna said tiredly. "Same here," Hendry said with a fake chuckle, accompanied by an obviously fake and worried smile.

"Please, Charles. Please, tell me it wasn't real," Crenna asked as he looked up at the station commander. Hendry looked down at his friend and sighed. "I'm sorry," Hendry said softly as he pulled out a chair and sat down. "So, what do we do now?" Crenna asked him.

Hendry raised his eyebrows before furrowing them in consideration. He was quiet for a few minutes as he pondered Crenna's query. "I... I don't know," Hendry said with uncertainty in his voice as he looked at the floor. "I don't know," he reiterated as he raised his head and looked Crenna in the face.

Meanwhile...

Allison Barclay marched through the hallway and barged into the lab. "I told you, it's still here! It hasn't moved!" Stewart Carrington pleaded as he followed Barclay. He pointed to the tarp-covered mass on one of the lab tables. "See? It's still here, right where I left it last night," Carrington said.

Barclay walked over and grabbed the tarp before pulling it back, revealing the burnt and charred corpse of the alien with the pipe in its torso. It looked exactly as it had the previous night. Letting out a breath of relief, Barclay pulled the tarp back over the corpse. "I'm sorry, but that Thing we dealt with this morning had to come from somewhere," Barclay said as he turned around and looked at the doorway to the infirmary, where the Thing from that morning lay.

Walking out of the lab and back into the hallway, Barclay made his was through the hall, with Carrington close behind. "Now where are you going?" Carrington asked him. "The storage room," Barclay replied as he marched past a half-awake Sanchez in the hallway. Once they reached the door to the storage room, Barclay noticed that something was very wrong. The door wasn't locked, nor was it shut properly.

Barclay quickly pushed the door open and turned on the lights. Walking inside, he scanned the shelves that had been pushed back and up against the walls, lined with bags, rucksacks, tool boxes, spare jackets, boots, gloves, and other gear. Looking over to his right, Barclay saw the tables where the bodies from Outpost 31 had been stashed. All of them had been kept in body bags, and the body bags looked intact.

Not willing to dismiss his suspicions without a proper investigation, Barclay marched over to the body bags and pulled them away from each other. He checked them one at a time, searching for signs of tampering. Opening up one, he saw one of the burnt men. Unzipping the bag the full way, Barclay checked for any signs that something was missing. The body, while burnt, was still intact.

Barclay quickly zipped the bag back up before opening the next one. The burnt corpse, whose arms were missing, was still how it had been left. Barclay zipped the bag back up before moving onto the others. "Wait, where's the corpse from the snowcat?" he asked curiously. "Um, isn't that one still in the infirmary?" Carrington asked him. "Right," Barclay said.

Barclay then looked at the body bag closest to the wall. He stepped over and inspected the bag, checking for signs of tampering before unzipping it to reveal the bearded face of R.J. Macready. Barclay unzipped the bag further, uncovering the dead man's body. It was still intact. Barclay zipped the bag back up before looking at the last one, between Macready's bag and the others.

Scanning the bag for tampering, Barclay found three small holes in it. He soon noticed that the zipper hadn't been properly closed all the way either. Yet, the body bag still seemed to be holding something. Barclay put a hand on it and pressed down, feeling something solid underneath the plastic. Grabbing the zipper, Barclay pulled it back, revealing that the bag had been stuffed with various winter gear.

Barclay stared at the gear in disbelief as his brain kicked into gear and began processing the significance behind this discovery. "Son of a bitch," Barclay muttered in realization. He looked over at Carrington, who was staring at the gear in surprise. "But... how?" Carrington asked in confusion.

"The damn thing wasn't dead," Barclay said before looking back at the holes in the bag. "Carrington, go meet up Connant and Atkins in the lab. I want you guys to examine that thing and make sure that it's dead. Find out as much as you can. I'm gonna go get the others and call a meeting in the infirmary later," Barclay said.

The Infirmary, Later...

Jonathan Connant looked at the burned remains of what had once been Anthony Reynolds and a man named Childs. Standing around the table in the lab were the rest of Hawke Station's crew, with Barclay sitting on a stool nearby. Everyone looked around at each other and the burnt corpse with a sense of unease. On the floor nearby was the gear-filled body-bag from which the Childs-Thing had emerged in the night.

"Well, it would appear, gentlemen, that the tape Captain Barclay ordered us to listen to the other night did not contain the ramblings of a madman," Connant said as he began pacing around the examination table. "So the crew of Outpost Thirty-One were actually taken over and killed by an alien?" Sanchez asked in disbelief.

"Well sure, Sanchez. We all knew that. We just didn't wanna tell you until you were ready," Ralsen snarked. Sanchez sent a glare at the man. "Both of you, cool it," Barclay said sternly.

"Now, Ralsen. I'd like to know just how well you, Lambert, and Connant secured those body-bags when you put them away," Barclay said with a frown. "We zipped 'em up and closed the door," Ralsen replied. "Well, the door was unlocked and open this morning," Barclay said as he glared at Ralsen.

"What caused those holes in the bag?" Crenna asked as he looked down at the body-bag. "Take a wild guess," Stiles said. "I don't get it," Dutton said. "What's not to get?" Lambert asked him. "If this thing were alive all this time, why did it wait until last night to do anything? Why not get up as soon as it had thawed out? I mean, none of us knew what the hell was going on when the bodies were first brought back," Dutton elaborated.

"That's a good question," Hendry commented. "I don't know. Maybe we should see if it's still alive and ask it," Barclay said with a snide smile. "Let's not," Van Wall said.

"What exactly was it doing to Reynolds anyway?" Harvey asked before taking a sip of his whiskey. "Harvey, put down the damn bottle," Hendry scolded him. "After what I saw this morning? I don't think so," Harvey said before taking another sip. "Harvey, we need you sober, now put down the damn bottle and pull up your big-boy pants," Barclay ordered sternly as he sent a withering glare towards the backup helicopter pilot.

Harvey looked around the room at the others, all of whom were staring at him, before he looked back at Barclay. "Fine," he said reluctantly as he lowered the bottle and screwed the cap back on. "Go get some coffee then. You'll need it to sober up," Hendry told him. "Sure. I'll get right on that later," Harvey said.

"Actually," Connant spoke up, "I would like to provide an answer to Harvey's question. As we were told in that recording, and as Bar was told by Doctor Lloyd a couple days ago, this organism assimilates and then imitates other life forms. See this here? See these teeth and jaw muscles?" Connant asked the group as he used a pen to point at one of the split open jaws, which still had teeth and lips.

"That isn't human flesh; it's imitation flesh. Those are imitation teeth as well, and they're damn near perfect too. From what we've seen and heard so far, in order to assimilate another life form, this thing must initiate some kind of physical contact with its prey," Connant explained as he paced back and forth. "The main body mass must somehow come into contact with said prey and then begin the assimilation process through an as of yet unknown means," Connant said.

"For instance, when it attacked Reynolds, it enveloped him with these tendrils or tentacles or whatever, and as we can see here," Connant said as he pointed to a collection of tendrils that had forced themselves into Reynolds' mouth and down his throat, "they went inside his body to provide further and more thorough physical contact to enable a complete take over from both outside and in." Connant then pointed to the joined flesh of the two men. "Now, here is the part that shows us that, during the process, the Thing merges with its prey as it absorbs them, allowing it to presumably consume and replicate their biological structure before spitting out a perfect imitation of the original. A near-perfect forgery, indistinguishable from the original person or animal," Connant said.

"If this thing had had more time to finish, Reynolds would have been a complete and perfect imitation, and we would have been none the wiser," Connant said. "Yeah, but... why did it turn into a monster during this process?" Kinner asked as he saw the split-open head and jaws, along with the burnt eye stalks and various arachnid limbs.

"Well, those could be either a shock and awe tactic to immobilize its prey and allow it to get close enough to initiate physical contact, or... it may perhaps be a defensive ability, to ensure that it can survive if something attacks it during the assimilation process. The fact that it can form these various parts, which I assume are from either previous victims or its original form, means that this thing has an extremely diverse genetic memory," Connant explained. "G-Genetic memory?" Hendry asked him.

"Various traits and abilities held with the DNA of previous hosts and prey. See those legs?" Connant asked as he pointed to the arachnid limbs. "Those aren't human. They're from something else. Whether it's the creature's original form or another host, I'm not sure," Connant replied. "It's also possible that the transformation is part of the assimilation process, and that the creature must revert portions of its body to some of its original form when initiating assimilation," Connant suggested.

"Does that mean it could eventually reach a point where there's nothing left from its original form?" Caldwell asked him. "I don't know. I have to conduct a more thorough examination of this thing and its cells in order to learn anything more," Connant replied. "Well... at least it's dead," Ralsen said with a shrug. "Ralsen, I want you and Lambert to clean the storage room together. I want every inch of that room sterilized. Both of you work together, and neither of you leave the other one alone, understand?" Barclay said.

"Uh, Bar? Those bodies in there are toast," Lambert said. "Not all of them. Macready's body is still intact, and I don't want to take any risks. We don't know for certain that he's still human," Barclay said. "He's dead," Ralsen said. "So was the other man," Barclay countered as he pointed to the Thing on the table.

"Yeah, okay. I guess that's a pretty good point," Ralsen said reluctantly. "When do you want us to start?" Lambert asked. Barclay looked over at Connant. "Con? Is there anything else you can tell us about this thing?" Barclay asked him. "Not really. We already know as much as we possibly can at this point. I have to conduct a further examination to learn more," Connant replied.

"Alright then. Well, I guess you boys can get started on that room... now," Barclay said. "Yes sir," Ralsen said with a mock salute. He and Lambert quickly made their way out of the room and into the hallway, heading for the supply closet to get cleaning supplies.

Barclay looked around at the rest of the group. "Sanchez, Caldwell? I want the two of you to try contacting the Soviets at Lazarev Station. Tell them what's happened and warn them that their prizes may not be completely dead. They weren't burned like the other one we found," Barclay said.

"Yes sir," Sanchez said wearily as he and Caldwell exited the infirmary. "I want the rest of you to resume your... normal duties for the time being," Barclay said. Everyone nodded their heads and exited the room, leaving only the six people behind. "Hendry?" Barclay asked when he realized that Hendry hadn't left the room.

"Bar... Reynolds is dead, and you want everyone to just go about their business as though nothing's happened?" Hendry asked him with a look of disgust and confusion on his face. "No, that's not what I'm doing. I'm just trying to make sure that everyone keeps up what they're supposed to do," Barclay replied. "I'm just trying to keep things moving," he added.

"All right. Now, about the Soviets; do you really believe that they need our help? They're self-sufficient enough," Hendry said begrudgingly. "Hendry, they have two alien bodies, and one of them might not actually be dead. Silva hasn't taken the pictures out of the dark room yet, has he?" Barclay asked. "Nope. It seems that you interrupted him with your roll call earlier. Maybe you should get him to take some pictures of these things while you're at it. At least to provide evidence of what's happened," Hendry said.

"Yeah... we're gonna have to report this at some point. But we still have the body over here," Barclay said as he jerked a thumb back at the Thing on the table. "Yes, but we should have more evidence. In case something happens to it. When we report this, we'll have witness testimonies, the bodies, and even the supporting evidence regarding the destruction of Outpost Thirty-One and Thule Station to back us up. Those pictures are just one more piece of evidence to convince everyone that we aren't lying when this is all over," Hendry said in a soft and gentle manner.

"You sound like my grandfather," Barclay said with a snort. "Well, I'm not that old, at least not yet," Hendry said with a grin. "So, you aren't gonna have a shouting match with me about saving the Soviets?" Barclay asked him. "Well... this means that they'll owe us if we end up saving them, and you did make a good point earlier," Hendry admitted. "Which was?" Barclay asked him curiously.

"If one of those things is only sleeping, then that means we may not be able to stop it in time, since the Soviets don't have access to all of the information that we have. I don't like 'em, but I'm not exactly anxious to see anyone else die either. So, why don't you go wait in the radio room with Bart and Tom, while I go get Van Wall and Harvey," Hendry suggested. "What do you need them for?" Barclay asked him.

"I want them to prep the helicopters, just in case we need them," Hendry replied. Barclay nodded his head in agreement. "Okay. You go do that, and I'll go wait in the radio room," Barclay said as he got up and walked out of the infirmary, with Hendry walking behind him.

Twenty Minutes Later...

Connant grabbed three petri dishes and set them next to each other on the counter next to a microscope. "Thorne, will you please fetch some spare blood from the cooler? I have a little test I want to perform," Connant asked. "Sure," Thorne said as he stepped away from the corpse on the table and removed his surgical gloves. "Hey, Atkins?" Thorne asked as he tapped the older man's left shoulder.

"Yeah?" "Connant wants me to get some spare blood from the cooler. Can I have the keys?" Thorne asked him. "Sure," Atkins replied as he unhooked the spare key from his ring. "Here," Atkins said as he handed the key over. Thorne nodded his head in appreciation before walking over to the cooler and unlocking it. "Hey, Connant?" Thorne asked. "Yes?" Connant responded. "Does it matter whose blood I'm retrieving, or what blood type?" Thorne asked.

"Type B. Same as Reynolds," Connant replied. "Got it," Thorne said before selecting a small bag and removing it from the cooler. "Here," Thorne said as he handed the bag of blood to Connant. "Just poor a small amount in those two petri dishes. Leave the third one alone," Connant instructed him. "Okay," Thorne said as he slowly opened and carefully poured a small amount of blood in both dishes.

"Done. Do you need anything else while the cooler's still open?" Thorne asked Connant. "No. That won't be necessary. Just return the blood to the fridge," Connant replied before putting on some new gloves and retrieving a scalpel. He went over to the Thing corpse with the third petri dish and carefully began slicing into it, retrieving some tissue and blood from the body before returning to the counter and placing the petri dish under the microscope.

Meanwhile, Thorne had returned the blood to the fridge and had locked it again before returning the key to Atkins. "So, what's the blood for?" Thorne asked him. "Something I wanna get a better understanding of," Connant said. "And, what would that be?" Thorne asked him.

"I want a better look at this thing's cell structure," Connant replied. "How does the blood help with that?" Atkins asked him. "You'll see," Connant said before he peered into the microscope.

The majority of the imitation cells were dead, Connant could clearly see, but some of them were still alive. The cells looked like those of an ordinary human. They slowly moved about in the dish, acting as though their host were still alive.

Connant removed the dish from under the microscope and retrieved the first normal blood sample. He placed it under the microscope and then grabbed a small set of tweezers and scalpel before removing a tiny piece of the Thing blood. He carefully placed the sample in the petri dish and resumed his observations.

In the petri dish, the Thing cells were outnumbered by the human cells. While the completely dead cells did nothing when contact between them and the human cells occurred, the living Thing cells had a clear response. Connant watched as one cell deliberately collided with a human cell and sent out a microscopic series of barbs, which penetrated the human cell.

The cell quickly began pulling the human cell into it, absorbing it and merging the two cells together to form one large cell. The contents of the human cell were soon infected and reshaped to be that of an imitation, before the large cell split itself apart in two. The two imitation cells then repeated the process with each human cell they came into contact with, never once repeating the process with an imitation cell by accident. After seven minutes, every cell in the dish was now an imitation, behaving as human cells while hiding their true identity.

Connant looked away from the microscope and began jotting down his notes. "Holy shit," he muttered to himself in awe and fear, catching the attention of the others in the room. "What's wrong?" Atkins asked him. "Gentlemen... we need to find out how long this thing was wandering the station before it attacked Reynolds," Connant said as he looked at Atkins and Thorne with a worried expression.

"Why?" Thorne asked him. "Because its rate of assimilation is faster than I expected. And, more importantly, it isn't dead yet," Connant explained. Thorne looked over at the burnt corpse with a worried expression. "Are you serious?" he asked Connant. "Positive. There's still cellular activity in these remains," Connant replied in a somber tone.

"How much activity?" Atkins asked him. "Enough that this thing could still assimilate someone if enough of it were to make contact with them," Connant replied. "And just how much is enough?" Thorne asked. "That's the problem; I'm not entirely certain. The blood I used for this experiment wasn't fresh from a living body. I don't know for certain how the immune system would-wait a minute. Thorne, get a sterilized scalpel and a completely clean petri dish," Connant said.

"Why?" Thorne asked him with a raised eyebrow. "I want to expose a sample of fresh blood, your blood, to this things cells and see what happens," Connant replied. "I'm not letting you touch me with that thing," Thorne retorted. "Thorne... did you even listen to a word I said? I said get a petri dish for your own blood. That way you don't come into contact with it yourself," Connant said.

"Just give me a minute," Thorne said reluctantly as he grabbed a scalpel and cleaned it with hot water and soap. "Here's a dish," Atkins said as he retrieved one from the cabinet. "Thanks," Thorne grumbled before he ran the edge of the blade against his thumb, spilling his blood into the dish. "Okay, that's good enough," Atkins said as he handed an adhesive medical strip to Thorne, who quickly applied it to his thumb before handing the petri dish to Connant.

"Thank you," Connant said as he took the dish and slid it under the microscope. He then retrieved another small sample from the other dish before retrieving a stopwatch and inserted it into the dish with Thorne's blood. Connant watched closely as the imitation cells drew near the Thorne cells. The imitation cells quickly began the assimilation process after coming into contact with Thorne's blood cells, albeit at a slower pace. However, after several more minutes, the result was the same: All of the human blood cells had been assimilated and replicated as imitations.

Connant frowned before writing down his observations in his notebook. "Well? We're waiting, Connant," Atkins said. "Yeah. The suspense is killing me," Thorne snarked. Connant looked over at his stopwatch and back at the petri dish. "Gentlemen... do we know how long this thing was wandering the station before it attacked Reynolds?" Connant asked them.

Thorne and Atkins looked at each other before shaking their heads. "No. No, we were both asleep in our rooms when Reynolds was attacked," Atkins said. "What time did you both go to bed?" Connant asked them. "Uh... some time before midnight? I think," Thorne said. "What about yourself?" Atkins asked Connant. "Shortly beforehand," Connant replied.

"What about you, Carrington?" Thorne asked as he looked over at the table where Carrington had been sitting earlier. "Uh, Carrington?" Thorne asked as he and the others looked around the room for any sign of the man. "Where'd he go?" Atkins asked. "Carrington?" Connant called out as he got off of his stool and walked over to the entrance to the lab. Inside the lab, Carrington was busy examining the remains of the burnt Thing from the ship.

"Uh, hey, Carrington," Connant said. "Hm?" Carrington responded, looking away from the microscope in front of him and over at Connant. "What time did you go to bed last night?" Connant asked him. "Around midnight," Carrington replied.

"You left this thing here then?" Connant asked him as Thorne and Atkins walked up behind him and looked over his shoulders. "Yes. What's this about?" Carrington asked defensively. "How much have you examined it so far?" Connant asked him. "I've been looking at tissue cultures and blood samples from inside," Carrington replied. "And the frozen flesh... has thawed?" Connant asked him.

"Slowly," Carrington said. "You know, it doesn't really have as much of an odor to it anymore," Thorne said as he sniffed the air. "It's been here long enough for us to get used to it," Carrington said sharply. "Did you cover it up before you left the lab?" Connant asked him. "Yes. Of course I did. And it was still covered-up when I came back this morning. You can ask Barclay; I showed to him as well," Carrington said with a frown.

"Stewart... is there any sign of cellular activity within those remains?" Connant asked him. "What do you mean?" Carrington asked him. "Are any of the cells still alive?" Connant clarified.

"Well... I haven't really been able to go very deep in my extractions so far. All of the burnt flesh is completely dead. I can tell you that much for certain," Carrington replied. "Did you notice anything unusual before you went to bed? Anything at all in the hallways? Any noises or shadows on the walls?" Connant asked him. "I don't believe so," Carrington replied. Connant nodded his head before backing off. Atkins and Thorne both stepped back to allow the older man to retreat back over to his spot by the microscope and petri dishes.

The Radio Room...

"Still nothing," Caldwell said. "Maybe we don't have the right frequency?" Sanchez asked as he looked at the radio equipment's channel settings. "Possibly," Caldwell replied. "So, Bar, do you really think that the Soviets are in trouble?" Sanchez asked Barclay, who was sitting on a stool next to Caldwell. "I just want to give them a heads-up. This thing survived thousands of years in the snow and ice before the Norwegians found it," Barclay said.

"If it can sleep that long and still wake up like a little kid on Christmas morning, then we shouldn't take any chances. If anything happens to the Soviets, then we're all alone in this mess, and that Thing can easily make its way to another station without anyone realizing what's going on. From there... it can go anywhere it wants," Barclay said in grim realization.

"Okay, I got 'em!" Caldwell exclaimed. "H-Hello? This is Mikhail of Lazarev Station. Who is calling?" a man with a Russian accent asked. Barclay took over the microphone. "This is Captain Barclay of Hawke Station. We have a situation over here and I need to speak with your other English-speakers. It is very important," Barclay said, making sure to structure his sentences carefully.

A few minutes later, Barclay was speaking to Boris and Vassili as well. "We want proof of your claims, Captain Barclay. Our station commander in here with us, and he will only cooperate if there is proof that what you say is true," Vassili said. "Then tell him to send a helicopter over here and have someone bring a camera," Barclay responded in frustration.

The radio was quiet for a couple of minutes, until Mikhail spoke. "Pavlo has agreed to your terms. We will send someone to your camp tomorrow morning by helicopter with a camera. We expect them to return to us unharmed after the visit," Mikhail said. "Fine. Fine. You have my word that they will be unharmed," Barclay said.

"I will relay this to Pavlo. Be sure to let your team know that we are coming. We do not want any trouble," Mikhail said. "I will do that. Just tell me what time your guys will be arriving tomorrow," Barclay replied. There was another brief period of silence before Mikhail spoke.

"The helicopter will arrive before noon," Mikhail said. "Okay. We'll be waiting. Captain Barclay of Hawke Station, out," Barclay said before turning off the radio. "Hendry is not going to like this," Caldwell said. "I know. I also don't care," Barclay said before he stood up and walked out of the room.

Two Hours Later...

Barclay stepped out of the shower stall and quickly dried himself off with a towel before getting dressed. Deciding that the pants and shirt that he'd worn earlier were still good for another day, he only changed his underwear and socks before putting his other clothes back on, including his indoor shoes, which were basically sneakers. He quickly gathered his dirty clothes and made his way over to the hamper for the dirty clothes. Just as he was about to dispose of his dirty underwear, he paused.

Sticking out from under the underwear hamper was a pair of boxers. Disposing of his underwear and socks in the hamper, Barclay knelt down and carefully pried the fabric out from under the hamper. He studied the fabric in his hands, noticing several holes and ripped areas throughout the underwear. The name tag was also missing.

Barclay reached under the hamper and moved it around as he searched the floor for the missing name tag. After a few minutes of searching, he stopped and glanced back at the shredded fabric in his hand. There was something about it that made him wary. There was a sensation of familiarity tugging at the back of his mind as he looked over the torn-up underwear. He scratched his head as he desperately tried to think of why this shredded undergarment had him on edge. And then it hit him.

I think it rips through your clothes when it takes you over.

Macready's words played through Barclay's head as he held up the ripped drawers. Wait... we don't know how long that thing was wandering the station before it attacked Reynolds, Barclay thought to himself as realization dawned on him. "Shit!" he swore under his breath. He quickly stood up and ran out of the shower room and into the hallway. He quickly made his way down to the main hallway and ran towards the lab and the infirmary.

He burst into the infirmary, causing the four men inside to stop talking among themselves and look at him in curiosity. "Is something wrong?" Atkins asked him. Barclay held up the shredded drawers in his hand. "We have a problem," Barclay said, almost out of breath. "Your underwear got shredded," Carrington said dryly.

"These aren't mine," Barclay said as he held out the underwear to show them the missing name tag. "Okay. What's your point?" Carrington asked him. "Remember the tape?" Barclay asked them. "What about it?" Thorne asked. "This thing rips through your clothes when it takes you over," Barclay spat.

"Okay. We saw Reynolds' clothes torn up on around the kennel when that thing attacked him. That isn't anything new," Atkins said. "Dammit, you idiots! He's saying that Reynolds wasn't the only victim!" Connant exclaimed, having quickly caught on to what Barclay was trying to communicate.

"Where did you find those?" Carrington asked him. "They were in the shower room, underneath the hamper," Barclay replied. "They don't seem to have any blood on them. Reynolds' clothes were covered in blood and slime when we arrived at the kennel," Carrington pointed out. "Yes, because putting these in the shower room means that the blood will stay on them," Barclay snarked.

"What size are they?" Atkins asked. Barclay looked over at the others carefully. "It's a size large. What do you guys wear?" Barclay asked them. "Large," Thorne replied. "Same here," Atkins said. "We all wear large," Connant said. "So they could be anybody's," Thorne said.

"Yeah. Which means someone in this camp ain't who he says he is," Barclay noted grimly. "Do you suppose... that perhaps the tag might still be in the shower room somewhere?" Atkins asked him. "I couldn't find them when I looked," Barclay replied.

"Wait... how do you know that those are the result of someone being attacked? How old are those underwear?" Carrington asked. "Stewart, look at them," Thorne said. "Well, if they had been part of an attack, why do they look dry? Even if they were washed, wouldn't they still be moist from being in the shower room?" Carrington pointed out.

"No, no... that's a good point," Atkins said. Barclay looked at the shredded underwear in his hands, trying to find any moisture. "Well, they're not completely dry, but not as moist or as wet as they should be if they'd been in there since last night," Barclay said. "But what about the missing name tag?" Thorne asked.

"Are we sure the name wasn't washed off? Some of our undergarments have our names merely stenciled or written in marker," Carrington said. Barclay nodded his head in agreement, before looking over at the physicist. "Carrington? Do you remember... just what time it was that you left the lab last night?" Barclay asked him.

"Shortly before midnight. I've already told you this, Bar," Carrington replied defensively. "And you're positive that the thing on the table is still exactly as you left it?" Barclay asked him pointedly. "Yes! For the love of-!" Carrington responded in frustration. "Look, that thing is dead, okay? It's been burned to a crisp. It's not going to get up and wander the station like a zombie! The only bodies that could possibly be hibernating are the ones that aren't burnt," Carrington said.

"Not true. There's still cellular activity in the remains of this thing in here," Connant said as he pointed to the Reynolds-Childs Thing. "Hold on, what did you say?" Barclay asked him. "I said it's not dead yet," Connant replied. Barclay looked at the burnt corpse on the table, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"Yes, but that one is fresh," Carrington pointed out. "The other bodies have all been burned for at least a week or more, and the one I'm working on has been dead for centuries. It isn't in good condition like that one that the... Soviets... took," Carrington said. "Hey, that's right. Have you managed to contact the Soviets yet?" Atkins asked Barclay. "Yeah. I talked to them earlier," Barclay replied.

"Did they believe you?" Atkins asked him. "They want proof of our claims. They're gonna send someone over here tomorrow to take some pictures," Barclay said. "Is Hendry going to be okay with Soviets setting foot in here?" Atkins asked him. "I haven't told him yet," Barclay replied. "You should probably do that," Thorne said.

"I know. In the meantime, I want you guys to check the remains of that other thing in the lab and make sure that it's dead. Finish studying this thing in here, and then get your notes ready. I'm calling a meeting in here later. I'm gonna go talk to Hendry, and then I'm gonna try to find out whose drawers these are. I need to find out who was where and when last night before that Thing attacked Reynolds," Barclay said before turning around and leaving the room.

"He's losing it," Carrington muttered after Barclay was out of earshot. Connant fixed him a glare before returning his attention to his notes. He glanced back over at Carrington suspiciously, before staring at the petri dishes on the counter. With Barclay's most recent find, Connant began working on a new series of formulas in his notebook.

Eventually, a grim expression adorned Connant's face as he finished his calculations. He looked back over his shoulder at Atkins and Thorne, both of whom were still inspecting the Reynolds-Childs Thing on the table, while Carrington had returned to the lab to inspect the specimen from the ship once more. With great reluctance, Connant forced himself to accept a grim reality: one or more members of the station had already been infected prior to Reynolds' assimilation, and he had no idea who they were.

Author's Notes: While not much occurs in this particular chapter, it does set up the drama of what's to come. In the next chapter, the Soviets make yet another appearance, and everyone at Hawke Station becomes suspicious once the truth about The Thing is revealed.