THE THING II: Hawke Station
Disclaimer: John Carpenter's THE THING is property of Universal.
Chapter 07: Terror At Lazarev Station
Date: Winter of 1982 - 1983
United States Antarctic Research Outpost "Hawke Station"
"Hendry? I need to talk to you," Allison Barclay said as he walked into the station commander's office. Hendry was busy reading a book when Barclay arrived. With a sigh, Hendry put a book mark between the pages he was reading before closing the book and setting it down on the table.
"Alright, what do you need, Bar?" Hendry asked the younger man. "Hendry, I have two very important things to discuss. First, I contacted the Soviets," Barclay said. "Yes. I'm well aware that you've been trying to do that," Hendry said. "Chuck, they don't believe me," Barclay said. "They... don't believe you? They've been inside the ship. They've presumably seen the Norwegian camp. And they have two alien corpses in their possession; proof of extraterrestrial life, and yet... they don't believe you?" Hendry asked in disbelief.
"They think that I'm trying to scam them into giving the bodies to us so that we can take credit for them," Barclay said. "Are you serious?" Hendry asked him skeptically. "Well, they didn't explicitly say any of that, but it's the only explanation I can think of for their response," Barclay replied. "So, what do you plan to do about it?" Hendry asked him.
"They're sending someone here tomorrow to take pictures of the body and confirm our story," Barclay said. Hendry stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Barclay waited with baited breath for a response from the man. "I... see," Hendry said reluctantly, clasping his hands together as he mulled over the situation in his mind.
"There's... one other thing that I need to talk about with you," Barclay said. "Go on," Hendry said. "I don't think that Reynolds was that thing's first victim," Barclay said bluntly. Hendry quietly studied Barclay for signs of fatigue. "Are you serious? Why do you think that?" Hendry asked him curiously.
"I found these," Barclay said as he held up the shredded underwear. Hendry looked at the underwear, before looking back at Barclay's face. "I see London, I see France. I also see someone's underpants," Hendry said with a snort. "Charles, didn't you listen to the tape? That Thing rips through people's clothes when it takes them over," Barclay retorted.
"So? I don't see any blood or alien slime on those," Hendry said as he glanced at the underwear again. "Dammit, they were in the shower room when I found them! The name tag is missing, and we don't know how long ago it happened," Barclay shot at him. "Watch your tone, Allison," Hendry said sternly.
"Hendry, don't you care about what this means!?" Barclay asked him. "What what means? Listen to yourself, Bar. You're claiming that a pair of shredded drawers is an omen of doom," Hendry retorted. "Uh... well, I-" "Bar, I think maybe you need to get some rest. Clear your head before you do something you'll regret later," Hendry said.
"Hendry, the thing in the lab isn't dead yet. There's still cellular activity in its remains. Connant confirmed it," Barclay said. "And just when do you think it had the chance to attack someone after we set it on fire?" Hendry asked him. "Before, Hendry! Someone else was attacked before Reynolds," Barclay clarified.
"Who?" Hendry asked him. "I don't know. That's the problem. We've seen what this thing is capable of doing, Hendry. We can't take the chance that another one is still running around. We have to find out who's still human," Barclay said. Hendry sighed. "Bar. I think what happened to Reynolds is having a greater effect on you than you want to admit. If you want to be safe, then we'll burn the other corpses again so that there's no chance of that thing coming back to life," Hendry said.
"But the drawers, Hendry," Barclay protested. "What about them? How do you know for certain that someone didn't just decide to get rid of them at the wrong time?" Hendry asked him in response. "Then why remove the name tag?" Barclay countered. Hendry looked at the drawers again. "Alright. Fine. I think it's a wild goose chase, but... if we do have to be absolutely certain, then go ahead and try to find out who those belong to. Just don't let this turn into a lynch mob situation, understand?" Hendry said.
"I understand," Barclay said. "I hope so, Bar. I don't want this place to burn to the ground because you jumped to conclusions," Hendry said. "Now go on. Go find Connant. I'm sure he'll have some kind of math formula or something that you can use to figure this out," Hendry said before dismissing Barclay from his office. Barclay opened the door and walked past Kinner, who was just raising his hand to knock.
"Hey Kinner," Barclay said as he walked by the cook. Barclay stopped walking before turning around as Kinner was about to step into Hendry's office. "Hey, Kinner? Are these yours?" Barclay asked as he held up the shredded drawers. "No," Kinner said after taking a minute to look over the undergarments. "You sure?" Barclay asked him. "Yeah. I already finished my laundry yesterday. All of my stuff is clean," the cook said before turning around.
Barclay nodded his head slowly before turning around and making his way back down the hallway. He saw Crenna leaving the geology lab before he started jogging towards the older man. He quickly caught up to the geologist. "Hey, Martin. Do you have a minute?" Barclay asked him. "Huh? Oh, sure," Crenna replied as he glanced over at Barclay while he continued walking towards the kitchen.
"Uh, Crenna. Have any of your clothes been torn up recently or gone missing?" Barclay asked him. "Not that I'm aware of. All of my clothes are just fine, thank you very much. Why do you ask?" Crenna responded. "I found someone's shredded drawers under the hamper today," Barclay explained.
"Sounds to me like someone didn't make it to bathroom on time after what we saw this morning," Crenna said. "No, they're dry. Look," Barclay retorted as he held up the drawers in Crenna's face. "Bar, what the heck?" Crenna asked in surprise. "Are you certain that these aren't yours?" Barclay asked him again. "Yes, Bar! Jeez, what's gotten into you?" Crenna replied as he stepped away from Barclay in agitation.
"Sorry," Barclay said with a hint of shame. "I'm just... still a bit on edge since this morning," he added. "Yeah," Crenna said, nodding his head. "How are we going to explain what happened?" Crenna asked Barclay. "As long as we can show people the ship, we can tell them the truth," Barclay replied before walking away.
The Infirmary, Later That Evening...
"You see, when the alien cell attacks a human cell, it absorbs it and merges itself with it, forming a larger super cell. Soon after, the super cell divides itself in two, with both cells being imitations that contain the same genetic information," Connant explained as he paced slowly around the table that the Reynolds-Childs Thing was on. "The whole process takes place in under a few seconds. The speed at which this happens also depends on the organism being attacked and its size," he added.
"Having tested both refrigerated blood from storage and fresh blood generously provided by Arnold over here," Connant said as he tilted his head towards said man, "I can confirm that the assimilation of fresh blood takes longer than blood from storage, although only by a few seconds." Barclay nodded his head as he looked around the room at everyone else. Everyone was accounted for, including Walters, who had been forcibly dragged from the greenhouse on Barclay's orders.
"So, how long would you say it takes for this thing to assimilate a full-grown man?" Silva asked curiously. "Probably an hour, give or take a few minutes," Connant replied. "How quickly does it heal damage?" Barclay asked him. "Well... the burnt portions of this thing here are completely dead. I've viewed them under the microscope with fresh blood. They have no life in them," Connant said.
"That's nice, but that isn't what I asked you," Barclay said. "The rate at which it assimilates something is probably equal to its rate of healing. Although, given how severely burnt this thing is, I don't think it can heal much more than whatever portions inside of it weren't exposed to the fire," Connant said with a slight hint of uncertainty in his voice.
"Can it regrow itself?" Barclay asked him. "Re...grow itself? You mean like a starfish?" Connant asked him. "Yeah. If you chop a body part off, can it regrow that? Can the body part regrow into a larger creature?" Barclay asked him. "I have no idea, although given how viral this organism appears to be, it wouldn't be impossible for a small part to infect someone without the main body present, as the blood tests showed," Connant said.
"Wait, didn't you say earlier that this thing needs to merge its body with someone in order to take them over?" Lambert asked. "I was wrong. That was an erroneous assumption that I had made based on the available evidence at the time," Connant replied. "So... as long as the cells are still alive, it can infect someone and turn them into an imitation? From the inside out?" Silva asked him.
"Yes," Connant replied. "Can't the immune system stop it if the number of cells is small enough?" Walters asked. "I don't believe so. Perhaps, if the body recognizes the intruder, but given that this thing imitates everything down to the cellular level, it's highly unlikely," Connant said. "What if you exposed dead cells to someone's blood, and then exposed living cells sometime afterward?" Carrington asked him.
"Like a vaccine?" Thorne asked. "Well, yes," Carrington replied. "We'd need to have fresh blood, and I wouldn't dare expose those cells to a whole human body," Connant said. "I'll give you some of my blood," Carrington offered. "No. I will," Barclay interjected. Everyone looked over at him. "Just get me some sterilized cups and a scalpel," Barclay said.
"I'll go get the needles," Thorne said. "Let's save that for later," Atkins said. "No. Let's do it now, while I still have the nerve," Barclay said. "Alright," Atkins said before he walked over to the sink while Thorne grabbed some needles and petri dishes. "How much blood do you need, though?" Barclay asked him. "Just enough for the petri dish," Connant said.
A few minutes later, Barclay was placing a band-aid over the spot where the needle had been removed. "So, why not just inject him with the dead cells and then take his blood?" Harvey asked. "Because I don't want any part of that thing inside me," Barclay said as he rolled down his shirt sleeve. "Better safe than sorry," Thorne chimed in.
Atkins filled up the petri dish and then removed a small sample of the Reynolds-Thing's burnt flesh before placing it in the dish. He then placed it under the microscope and watched for any signs of activity. "Well, Doc? Is he gonna be okay? Do we have to put him down?" Ralsen asked with a snicker.
"Ralsen, shut the fuck up," Dutton said. "There's no reaction," Atkins said after a few minutes. "No shit," Barclay said. "How long would it take to expose the entirety of that petri dish to the dead cells?" Hendry asked. "Just give it a few more minutes. Then we'll take a sample of living cells from that Thing and see what happens," Atkins said.
A few minutes later, Atkins retrieved a small amount of cells from the Reynolds-Thing on the table with a needle and injected the tiniest amount possible into the dish. He carefully watched the dish through the microscope afterwards. At first, his hopes were raised as the imitation cells were recognized and attacked by the white blood cells in the sample. However, at least one cell became infected, allowing the imitation cells to multiply until only a few non-infected cells remained.
"Dear god," Atkins said. He watched for a few more minutes, before noticing that the surviving human cells were able to resist the attacks of the imitation cells. However, the small number of them was still disheartening. "So? What's the verdict?" Barclay asked him.
"If we'd done this using your body, you'd be undergoing assimilation right now, Bar. Only a few bits and pieces of you would remain untouched," Atkins replied. "Wait... so some of the human cells were able to fight off the imitation cells?" Carrington asked. "Yes, but not enough," Atkins replied. "I need to continue observing this, to make certain that the resistant cells aren't eventually absorbed," Atkins said before returning his attention to the petri dish.
Ten minutes later, he looked back at the group as they anxiously waited and fidgeted around the table. "Good news: the surviving cells passed the test. The bad news is that the rest of the cells are all still imitations. Bar, you are one lucky son of a bitch," Atkins said.
"So, even trying to build an immunity to this thing would still result in someone becoming an imitation," Stiles commented. "It would seem so. This thing is too virulent for any vaccine to be properly produced for it, at least with the equipment that we have here," Atkins said. "Well, we can't just destroy it outright," Barclay said, surprising everyone.
"What?" Van Wall asked him curiously. "We need these remains for our report. We need to use them as proof of what's happened here, and at Thirty-One and the Norwegian camp. We destroy these outright, and we lose any chance of convincing proper authorities of the truth," Barclay elaborated.
"So... if this thing's cells are still alive, how do we know it won't heal itself and come after us before then?" Stiles asked. "We keep it locked away in a frozen location. Keep it from thawing out until Spring. We'll destroy it completely after our story has been accepted," Barclay replied.
"And, uh, just what location would we use for storing this thing?" Hendry asked him. Barclay looked over at Dutton. "Hey, Dutton? Is there any space in the vehicle garage?" Barclay asked the head mechanic. "Um... there might be, but why out there? Wouldn't it be easier just to throw it in a tool shack with the windows open?" Dutton replied.
Stiles scoffed. "Dutton, would there really be much difference between a tool shed and the vehicle garage? Both would be cold and away from the main building," Stiles pointed out. "Well, we can't quite move it just yet. We need to leave it here until the Soviets have checked it out tomorrow," Barclay said.
"Um... wait, the who?" Crenna asked him. "The Soviets are sending someone over here tomorrow to confirm our story. They want to see the remains of this thing so that they know we're telling the truth," Barclay said. "Um... they've seen the space ship and the destroyed Norwegian camp, right? Wouldn't those be enough for them to accept our claims about their specimens possibly not being dead?" Silva asked.
"Some people just don't use logic," Hendry said. "Silva, take some pictures of this thing, as well as the notes compiled by Connant and the others," Barclay said. "And Hendry, when our guest arrives tomorrow, I don't want you pointing a gun at them the moment they walk inside," Barclay said.
"Do you really doubt me that much?" Hendry asked him in response. "Hendry, I mean it," Barclay said firmly. "Don't worry, Bar. I'll be courteous and polite," Hendry said through gritted teeth. "Okay. Until then, everyone go back to your usual duties and routines," Barclay said before turning to look at Carrington, Connant, Atkins, and Thorne. "I want the four of you to continue studying this thing and keep it under close watch. Make sure all of the equipment in here is sterilized and cleaned before leaving tonight," he said.
"Oh, one more thing. Before we all depart," Barclay started as he held up the shredded underwear from earlier, "I want to know who decided to leave their long johns on the floor instead of putting it in the hamper like you're supposed to. It's a size large." Everyone looked around the room at each other in curiosity. "Anyone? You know that clothes are supposed to go in the hamper, not on the floor," Barclay said.
Carrington raised his hand. "Um, Bar? I thought-" "Thought what? That you could leave your dirty clothes lying everywhere and not take responsibility for it?" Barclay asked him pointedly, not wanting Carrington to let the true reasoning behind his questioning slip just yet. "Well, no, but those aren't mine," Carrington said.
Barclay stared at Carrington for nearly a minute, studying the man, before tearing his attention away and looking back around the room. "Van Wall, what size do you wear?" Barclay asked the pilot. "Large. You?" Van Wall asked in response. "Large," Barclay replied before looking around. "Bart?" Barclay asked Caldwell. "Extra Large," Caldwell replied.
Barclay looked over at Walters. "Dillon, what size-" "Large, just like you and nearly everyone else," Walters replied, crossing his arms. "Pomroy?" Barclay asked. "Large," Pomroy replied curtly. "Stiles?" Barclay asked. "Large," Stiles replied.
The process continued until everyone had been questioned. "Well, I guess if no one wants to take responsibility, I'll just hold onto these for the time being. Maybe I'll clean 'em up and use them as a washing rag," Barclay said, despite having no intention of actually doing so. Someone wasn't who they appeared to be, and if he let on that he knew that, then the imitation would keep their guard up for who-knew-how-long.
No. Letting the imitation think that he didn't understand what was happening was the best option, at least for the time being. Barclay decided that he would put duct tape over the cracks between the floor and his bedroom door before going to bed that night, just to be safe, until he could find the imposter. Until then, he would simply have to keep his eyes open and watch over his shoulders. Barclay knew that he was human. The question, though, was just who in the camp wasn't?
DAY 06
Stepping outside in the snow for an early morning walk to clear his mind, Barclay slowly made several laps around the station. On his fifth lap, during which he had pretty much created a solid trail in the snow, he saw an object in the distance. Stopping in his tracks, he squinted his eyes before realizing that it was a helicopter.
"Well, I didn't expect you guys this early," Barclay said quietly to himself as the Soviet helicopter slowly approached the station. Trudging through the snow, Barclay waved at the approaching helicopter to let the pilot know that he saw them. The sound of a door opening behind him drew his attention, and he turned around to see Dutton and Silva stepping outside. "Is that the Soviets?" Dutton asked as he and Silva walked up to Barclay.
"Yeah," Barclay replied. "It's not even past ten. They're kind of early, don't ya think?" Silva asked Barclay. Barclay responded by merely shrugging his shoulders. "Hey, don't leave the damn door open!" Crenna shouted as he walked outside, closing the door behind him. He was wearing his standard dark green winter coat and neck gator.
The four men watched as the helicopter drew closer before it began descending. The men held their gloved hands up to their faces as the rotor blades blew the snow up into the air near them, giving Dutton a mouthful of snow. Dutton turned around and spat out the snow as the Mil Mi-17 landed in the open space in front of the camp.
Barclay looked back at Dutton before returning his attention to the helicopter. Soon, several more men exited the station, including Hendry, as the helicopter's rotor blades slowly came to a stop. After a few more minutes, the pilot exited the cockpit of the helicopter.
The pilot slowly looked around at the Americans standing in front of him, before pulling his mouth cover down and smiling. "Hello!" he said with a friendly wave. "Hi there... uh, Boris," Barclay replied with a small wave of his own as he walked over to the pilot. "Who else did you bring with you?" Barclay asked him.
Boris shook his head. "Only me, myself, and I. Last night, after talking on radio, team leader, Pavlo, began acting... weird. I had to wake up early today, before him. I made sure to bring camera gear with me," Boris said. "Weird?" Barclay asked him. "He became very protective of the... specimens. He watches everyone who goes near the lab," Boris explained.
"Well, speaking of specimens, grab your camera gear and follow us inside," Barclay said. Boris nodded his head before entering the cockpit and grabbing the camera gear from the floor. He then jumped back outside and closed the cockpit door. "Okay. Where do we go?" Boris asked Barclay.
Inside The Infirmary...
Boris stared with wide eyes and a mixture of awe and horror at the Reynolds-Childs Thing on the table. "That was once our assistant cook," Barclay said as he pointed to the portion that was Reynolds. Boris silently nodded his head before getting his camera ready. Standing nearby in the corner of the room, Connant watched the two men quietly. Standing in the doorway, Hendry also quietly observed the Soviet helicopter pilot as he took pictures of the Thing on the table. Carrington, Thorne, and Atkins were also in the room, observing Boris and continuing their research on various samples of the Thing.
"When did... it attack?" Boris asked Barclay after taking a few pictures from different positions around the table. "Early yesterday morning. Some time after midnight," Barclay replied, not entirely certain of exactly what time it had been when he'd heard the dogs barking. "Was this the body that you took from the ship?" Boris asked as he looked at the Childs portion of the Thing on the table.
"No. This was one of the corpses we found at Outpost Thirty-One," Barclay replied. "What did it look like when you found it?" Boris asked him. "It looked human. It was a man, named Childs. He... it had been dressed in a parka and covered in frost-bite," Barclay explained. "So, what of the other bodies?" Boris asked him as he took pictures of the tendrils and arachnid limbs. "All but one of them was burnt, so I think they're dead. The only one that I'm concerned about at this point is the other intact body," Barclay said.
"Have you identified them?" Boris asked as he angled the camera to take more pictures of the split-open chest on the Childs portion of the Thing. "R.J. Macready. He was the helicopter pilot for Outpost Thirty-One. That's all I know so far," Barclay replied. "So... the other bodies are all burned. This means, that only bodies in good condition can pose a threat?" Boris asked him.
"Possibly. This one wasn't burned all the way through. Some of its cells are still alive in certain places. After you leave, we're going to burn it a bit more so that all of the cells in it are dead later," Barclay said.
"Now, wait a minute!" Carrington protested. "What?" Barclay asked him sharply. "We can't just destroy it completely, Bar. You said so yourself last night. We need to preserve this thing as evidence of what's happened these past couple weeks," Carrington said. "I just wanna make sure that it's completely dead, Carrington," Barclay replied. Besides, when we find out who our current imposter is, we'll have another sample for you to go gaga over later. I don't need more than one of these things running around at a time, Barclay thought to himself.
Thirty minutes later, Boris finally used up the last bit of film in his camera. "I hope you brought spare film rolls with you," Thorne said. "Only one. I had to leave while there was still time," Boris said. "Still time? What does that mean?" Hendry asked him. Boris turned and explained the situation regarding Pavlo's paranoid behavior to him. "So, he's afraid that we might steal those specimens away from him," Hendry surmised. "Yes. Very much so," Boris said while nodding his head.
"Well, you can call him on the radio and let him know that we simply wanted to warn you guys about what these things are capable of," Barclay said. Boris turned to look at him with a surprised expression. "I can... use your... radio? You would let me do that?" Boris asked him.
"Yes. That way, you can speak to your team leader and tell him about what you've seen. Tell him that you've taken pictures. Tell him that you've seen the bodies and the evidence that we've collected so far," Barclay said. "Yes. Yes, that... I will do that," Boris said, nodding his head in agreement. "Um... I do not mean to be rude, but... may I use your latrine?" Boris asked Barclay.
Barclay looked at him blankly. "Sure," he replied nonchalantly, before he realized that letting the newcomer wander around unsupervised was not a bright idea. "Although, it might be best if I escort you there. We don't want Commander Hendry over there getting paranoid. After all... he isn't the biggest fan of the Soviet Union," Barclay said, causing Boris to glance over at Hendry.
"I won't put a leash on you. I just want to know where you are at all times," Hendry said with a smirk. "I am not a scientist, but I am not your enemy either, Commander Hendry," Boris said. "We'll see about that," Hendry said curtly. "Come on. Follow me," Barclay said as he led Boris out of the infirmary and through the hallways of Hawke Station.
Soviet Union Antarctic Research Facility Lazarev Station, An Hour Later...
Mikhail, Lazarev Station's radio operator, took a sip of his hot chocolate as he read his Russian-translated copy of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. He was about to wipe some of the liquid from his mustache when he heard the sound of the radio. Placing his book and mug down on an empty section of the table, he grabbed his headset and and microphone before speaking into the radio. "Come in Lazarev Station. This is helicopter pilot Boris, calling Lazarev Station. Mikhail, do you hear me?" Boris asked over the radio in English.
"[Borya?]" Mikhail asked in Russian, having known Boris for several years prior to them being sent to Antarctica. "Hello, Mikhail! Mikhail, I must request that we speak in English while using the American's radio. To reassure them that there is nothing to fear from us," Boris said over the radio. Mikhail raised an eyebrow before shrugging his shoulders.
"Of course. After all, we Soviets are very scary. Are we not?" Mikhail replied jokingly, earning a chuckle from Boris over the radio. "Indeed! Ha! But, let us save joking for later. Mikhail, I need for you to write down some notes. Can you do that?" Boris asked over the radio. "Yes. I can take notes for you," Mikhail said. He was the second-most fluent English speaker at Lazarev Station after Boris, and he was currently studying Spanish as well.
"Good. I have seen and confirmed the existence of the life form which the Americans spoke to us about yesterday. One of their own has indeed been killed by it," Boris said, causing Sanchez to pause as he wrote this down. "Was it one of the specimens found in the craft?" Mikhail asked him. "No. It was a human corpse that had been located at the destroyed American research station called Outpost Thirty-One. The body had been found with only cold weather damage, while all other bodies found have been burned prior to being discovered," Boris explained over the radio.
"And... the specimens that we brought back... are not burned," Mikhail said in realization. "That is correct. We must keep watch over the intact bodies and be cautious. Please inform Pavlo that I will be returning later tonight with evidence, as I must develop that photographs that I have taken of the thing that attacked the Americans. Please tell everyone to be cautious until I return," Boris requested. "I will do that. I will go find the others and I will bring them here later to speak with you and the Americans," Mikhail said.
"How long do you wish to wait before we speak again?" Boris asked him. "We shall wait one hour," Mikhail replied, not noticing the figure standing behind him in the open doorway of the radio room. "Yes. I will speak with you and the others again in one hour. Until then," Boris said before ending the transmission. Mikhail took off his headset and set it on top of the radio box with a sigh before scooting back his chair and getting up.
Hawke Station, Over Ninety Minutes Later...
Caldwell turned the knob to the left before twisting it to the right again. "Still nothing. I can't get through to them," Caldwell said in frustration. "Do you have the machine using the correct signal? Or frequency?" Boris asked him. "It's the exact channel and frequency that you had us use the first time," Caldwell replied as he pointed to the notepad that Boris had written on earlier.
"Maybe they're trying to tune into our frequency but they got the wrong one, and that's causing the problem?" Sanchez suggested. "It's possible," Caldwell said before resetting the radio. "Okay, let's wait a few minutes and give them a chance to call us," Caldwell said, just as Barclay entered the room. "So, what did your comrades say?" Barclay asked Boris.
"Nothing. We have not been able to contact them for over thirty minutes," Boris replied. Barclay furrowed his brows in consternation. "Did anything seem unusual when you contacted the station earlier?" Barclay asked Boris. "No. I did not ask for information on the station when I talked to Mikhail," Boris replied. "Who's Mikhail?" Barclay asked him. "The radio operator," Boris replied.
Barclay nodded his head in understanding. "Have the photos been developed yet?" he asked Boris. "Yes. They are in the dark room right now," Boris replied. "Go get them and keep them safe while we try to contact Lazarev Station," Barclay said, just before the radio came to life.
"This is Lazarev Station! Mayday, mayday! This is Lazarev Station!" Mikhail's panicked voice spoke over the radio. "Mayday?" Barclay asked under his breath. "We need help! We have a situation! We found something in the ice! We found something! Our team leader has-" The transmission ended abruptly.
Everyone stared at the radio, waiting for the transmission to pick up again. "Bart, get on that now!" Barclay ordered. Caldwell immediately attempted to establish contact with Lazarev Station again. "Come on, come on!" Caldwell muttered in urgency as he repeatedly transmitted to Lazarev Station over the next five minutes.
Soon, there was a loud pinging noise and a beep, before static overtook the radio. "Boris? Get those pictures of yours. We're heading over to Lazarev," Barclay said. "W-We?" Boris asked him. "I'm going with you over there. I'm gonna help you in the dark room, and then we're gonna get Atkins and prepare your helicopter for take off," Barclay said. "Sanchez, go get Doc and Van Wall. Make sure to let Hendry know what's going on," Barclay ordered.
"Wait, why do you need Van-" "Just do it!" Barclay barked at him. "Y-Yes sir!" Sanchez replied shakily before he ran out of the room. "Come on, Boris. Let's get to the dark room and then get your helicopter prepped," Barclay said. Boris nodded his head and followed him out of the room and into the hallway, passing by Silva.
Three Hours Later...
"How long until we arrive?" Barclay asked Boris. "Just a few more minutes," Boris replied. Sitting in the cockpit next to Boris, Van Wall studied and familiarized himself with the controls of the Mil Mi-17 while Boris flew them towards the camp. Sitting in the back area, Atkins, Silva, Dutton, and Barclay all waited anxiously for the helicopter to arrive at their destination.
Barclay reached down to feel his holstered Colt M1911, while Atkins held his medical gear in a bag across his lap. Silva had his camera with him, and Dutton had a box of tools on the floor in front of him. Looking out the window, Barclay saw only the white expanse of Antarctica, which, in conjunction with how long their flight to another population center was taking, reminded him of just how isolated he and everyone else on the continent were. Looking back down, Barclay tapped his bag of survival gear with his boot.
"We'll be landing in... oh shit," Boris swore in English as they approached Lazarev Station. "We're going to be landing in shit?" Dutton asked jokingly. Barclay, with a feeling of dread growing inside of him, turned to glare at Dutton for his remark.
Meanwhile, in the cockpit, Boris and Van Wall both looked ahead at the fire and smoke that were consuming various portions of Lazarev Station. Boris began circling the camp as he looked for a better spot to set down, allowing the others in the back a chance to look down and see the destruction. "Jesus Christ," Dutton muttered. "Doc, why does this shit look familiar?" Barclay asked Atkins. "We both know the answer to that," Atkins replied.
The helicopter soon began to set down near the front of the station, in a large space between a bulldozer and a snowcat. "We are landing! Please remain seated," Boris yelled back to the passengers. After the rotor blades eventually came to a stop, the six men stepped out of the helicopter, with Boris in the lead as he walked forward, and Barclay stepping right behind him, keeping his hand on his gun holster.
Fire and smoke were billowing from the windows of the station's rec room, while a tool shed outside was demolished, having been plowed into by a snowcat. As the men walked away from the helicopter, Barclay saw something sticking out of a window. "Wait, is that a-gun! Get down!" Barclay shouted, just as the rifleman opened fire at the group. Everyone scattered and ran over behind the helicopter, except Dutton, who ran over behind a stack of fuel drums nearby, and Silva and Van Wall, who both ran over behind the bulldozer. Van Wall pulled out his Browning High Powered before peering out past the bulldozer's front. He quickly tucked himself back behind it as the snow in front of him erupted from another gun shot.
The gunman fired three more rounds before shouting at the group in Russian. "[Get back! Get away! Get away from here, you idiots! Don't come closer!]" the gunmen yelled at them. Only Boris understood what he was saying. "Andriy!? Andriy!" Boris called out from his spot behind the cockpit. he was crouching next to Barclay, who had already pulled out his M1911 and had turned off the safety. "My gun is live and loaded, Boris. Tell him to stand down and explain the situation," Barclay said.
Boris looked back at Barclay and nodded his head. "I will try," he said before scooting over just a few inches and peeking out under the helicopter. "[Andriy! Please, speak to me! What has happened here!? Where are the others!?]" Boris called out in Russian. "[They're gone! Pavlo, Dimitri, Aleksey! They were all turned into those Things!]" Andriy cried out.
Boris turned to look at Barclay. "Well? What did he say?" Barclay asked him. Atkins was right behind him and looked at the man questioningly. "He said that... you were right. Those things were not dead," Boris said. "That can't be everything that he said," Barclay retorted. "He says that Palvo, Dimitri, and Aleksey were all turned into Things," Boris relayed. "How many people are part of the station's crew?" Barclay asked him.
"There are ten of us," Boris replied. "So, three of your guys are already down. You're with us, and there's him, so there must be five others left. Did he say what happened to them or if they're still alive?" Barclay asked him. Boris bit down on his lower lip before peeking over at the window where Andriy had retracted his gun, most likely to reload it. "[Andriy! Who else is alive!? Who is hurt!?]" Boris called out.
"[No one leaves here! No one gets in! It is the only way to contain this monster!]" Andriy exclaimed in response. Boris looked back at Barclay. "He would not tell me who else is alive. He only says that he cannot let anyone leave," Boris relayed. Barclay mulled over his words. "Quarantine," Barclay muttered in realization. "You mean he'll let his comrades die just to keep this thing contained!?" Atkins asked him.
Boris furrowed his brows as he thought about Atkins' question. "I-I do not know," he said before turning peek out at the window. Andriy was once again aiming his rifle out of the window. "[Andriy! These are Americans I have brought with me! Please, let them help!]" Boris shouted. "[Take them back! Take them back before it is too late! If you come inside, I cannot let you leave this place! Save yourselves and get away from here!]" Andriy shouted again.
"He refuses to let anyone leave. He will not let us inside to help the injured either," Boris relayed. "This is getting us nowhere," Barclay muttered in frustration. "Boris, do you have a weapon?" Barclay asked him as he turned off the safety for his M1911. Boris looked at the man incredulously. "You expect me to kill my comrade?" Boris asked him in horror.
"I expect you to defend yourself," Barclay said as he looked Boris in the eyes. "I... I have a Tee-Tee Thirty-Three service pistol in one of the compartments inside the cockpit. No one knows that it is there but me," Boris confessed. "Can you get to it without him seeing you?" Barclay asked him. "If he sees me getting inside, he will shoot when he realizes that I do not intend to start up the machine," Boris said. "Then we'll get inside the helicopter, and you'll drop me onto the roof. I'll get inside and disarm him," Barclay said.
"You are suicidal. Andriy has military training. And that is no hunting rifle that he is using, Captain Barclay. That is an AEK Nine-Seven-One," Boris said. "Is that a military rifle?" Barclay asked him. "A very recent one. It was produced only a few years ago," Boris replied. "Listen, I need you to get me inside. Get me onto the roof, or on the other side of the building; someplace that I can find an unguarded entrance," Barclay said. "If he realizes what we are doing..." Boris trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence.
Barclay slowly crouch-walked around Boris, checking over the side of the cockpit, before he saw the Andriy had removed his gun from the window again. Squinting his eyes, Barclay tried to get a better look, before he realized that Andriy was nowhere to be seen. "He's not there anymore," Barclay said to Boris and the others. "Do you think he's coming out here? Will he shoot us if we don't leave?" Atkins asked.
"I won't let him shoot you, Doc. I won't give him the chance," Barclay said firmly. "Boris, now's your chance. Get that pistol out of the cockpit," Barclay said before he looked over at one of the steps leading up to a door. He glanced back over at the window, checking to see if Andriy had returned to his spot. The man was still missing.
He nodded his head at Boris, signalling the man to get into the cockpit and retrieve his gun. Boris quickly crawled into the cockpit and opened a small compartment between the pilot and co-pilot seats, retrieving his gun and quickly reassembling it and inserting his ammunition. "I only have two magazines," Boris said as he grabbed the second magazine and stowed it in his jacket.
"Hopefully, you won't need to use either one. Now, come on," Barclay said as he motioned for the others to follow him over to the steps. He quickly grabbed the handle and pushed, opening the door with surprising ease. Stepping inside the station, Barclay saw that there was a knife on the floor, along with smoke in the air. He quickly went over to one of the windows and opened it, before ducking down.
"Everyone stay low and follow me," Barclay said quietly. The others nodded their heads as Barclay crawled forward along the floor of the hallway, listening for any sound to indicate Andriy's presence. Stopping at a corner, Barclay peeked around and saw a small fire in the middle of the hallway, along with an axe in an opened door. He saw a pair of boots sticking out of the doorway, and the way that they were pointing up indicated that they were attached to someone.
Quickly crouch-walking over to the open doorway, Barclay saw the corpse on the floor. "Vassili!" Boris hissed in surprise when he saw the dead body of the geologist on the floor of the rec room. Barclay quickly made his way over to the man's body, looking at the bullet wound in the man's forehead, before lifting his head to see the back of it blown out. Barclay rested Vassili's head back down on the blood-stained floor.
"There's nothing we can do for him," Barclay said to Boris and Atkins. "Let's keep moving," Barclay said, stopping as he neared the next exit to the room. Peeking outside, he saw that the hallway was relatively free of damage, so he carefully crouch-walked over to the next corner and peered over the side, seeing smoke coming out of a room down the hallway. "Which room is that?" Barclay asked Boris.
"That is the kitchen," Boris said. "Stay behind me," Barclay said as he kept his M1911 pointed at the floor. He slowly made his way through the hall, hugging the wall before peering inside the kitchen to see a still-burning corpse on the floor. Everyone made their way inside, staying behind tables as they gathered around the burning corpse. "Any idea who this is-err, was?" Barclay asked Boris. "I do not know," Boris said, horrified at the sight. Barclay looked down at the floor and saw two 5.45x39mm casings near the legs of a table.
Looking over at the other end of the kitchen, Barclay then saw something new. It was another burnt corpse, but this one was different. It looked like three corpses fused together in some unholy union, with burnt tendrils sprawled out and the smell of burnt flesh and dog fur hanging in the air around it. "Silva," Barclay whispered. Silva crawled over to Barclay's side and looked at the burnt corpse on the floor with awe and horror.
"Jesus Christ," Silva muttered as he realized what he was looking at. The corpse was made of one dog and two humans, all three of which had been fused together as part of some gruesome transformation. The dog neck had been elongated, with the head malformed and open in a silent snarl. The first human head had its mouth opened in twisted agony, while the second one was partially opened and split apart, revealing row upon row of teeth where they did not belong, along with some kind of long tentacle or tongue.
"Don't take any pictures just yet. We don't want to alert... um... what's your comrade's name again?" Barclay started before asking Boris for help. "Andriy. He is the station's head mechanical engineer," Boris replied. "Right. Andriy. We don't want to alert Andriy to our position," Barclay said as he turned back to face Silva.
"Got it," Silva whispered in response. Barclay silently moved forward again, crawling past the burnt fusion corpse as he made his way over to the other kitchen entrance, which took them into the dining room. The men quietly slipped through the dining room and back out into the hallway, glancing back at the open doorway to the kitchen. Carefully making their way to the next corner, Barclay peered over the side and saw the destroyed portion of another room, with the door blown apart and in splinters on the floor.
Peering over to the other side, Barclay saw an open doorway for the radio room, with a corpse lying on the floor with an axe buried in them. Checking the other path, Barclay quickly made his way over to the radio room and saw the dead operator on the floor. "Mikhail," Boris whispered as he caught up with Barclay. He looked around and saw an open book on the floor and a chipped coffee mug lying on its side nearby, with stains on the table and floor.
The radio equipment was hacked apart and smashed to pieces, with only one cabinet remaining intact. "Deja fucking vu," Barclay muttered to himself, just before a shot rang out. Everyone turned to face the open doorway, listening as three more shots rang out, along with shouting.
"I hear two different voices," Atkins said. "Andriy and... Kyrylo?" Boris asked. "Who?" Barclay asked him. "Our cook. He is still alive," Boris said as he heard Kyrylo shouting as he ran through the halls, followed by more shouting from Andriy and another set of gun shots. "We have to help him," Boris said as he got up and made his way through the hallway, quickly accompanied by Barclay, who forced him over to the wall.
"Now, wait just a minute, Boris! Don't go runninh headlong into danger like that," Barclay said as he looked the pilot in the eyes. The two men were interrupted by the sound of running and panting, causing them to turn their heads as Kyrylo turned a corner before tripping on his shoes.
The cook looked up at them with terror and relief, before heavy foot steps followed as Andriy turned the corner. "[No one! No one leaves! It cannot be allowed to spread!]" Andriy shouted before Barclay stepped away from Boris and raised his pistol at him. "Freeze!" Barclay shouted at the man. Andriy growled at him. "[I gave you the chance to leave! You should have taken it! Now none of us leave here alive!]" Andriy shouted angrily at him before aiming his rifle at the terrified Kyrylo.
"Don't!" Barclay shouted just as Andriy squeezed the trigger and fired at Kyrylo, hitting the man in the back with a three-round burst. "Shit!" Barclay swore before he fired his gun at Andriy, hitting the man in the chest and sending him stumbling back. Andriy fired his rifle again, hitting Boris in the chest as Barclay tripped and fell backwards on a piece of debris on the floor.
Boris leaned back and slumped against the wall as he watched Andriy fall back onto the floor, gasping in his final breaths. "An...driy," Boris whispered painfully as he slumped down onto the floor, his breathing becoming labored. "Boris? Boris!" Barclay yelled as he pushed himself off of the floor and crawled over to the dying man. "Doc! Doc, get over here!" Barclay called out.
Atkins and Silva both exited the radio room, having used it as cover when they saw Andriy enter the hallway with his rifle. "Dammit, which one's more severe?" Atkins asked as he opened his bag of medical gear. "Save the pilot," Barclay said after looking down at Kyrylo, whose blood was beginning to pool under his body.
"Just hang on," Barclay said to Boris. "The fuel drums... should be full. Take one with you," Boris said tiredly. He began wheezing as he found breathing difficult. "Find the others... save them," Boris said as Atkins opened his jacket and shirt to see the blood stains. "Dammit. He's not going to make it either," Atkins said somberly.
Soon, Boris's breathing stopped, and he stared straight ahead with a vacant expression on his face. Barclay put his gloved-hand over the man's face to close his eyes. "Silva? Start taking pictures. We need to document what happened here. We can't afford an international incident if we don't provide proof that we weren't responsible," Barclay said.
"Hold on. Are you saying that we'll get blamed for this!?" Silva asked him. "YES,Silva! Now, start taking pictures, dammit!" Barclay ordered him. "Y-Yes, Bar!" Silva squeaked out in response to the man's temper. "This is just what we fucking need right now," Barclay growled sarcastically as he looked around at the rest of the destroyed interior of the Soviet research station.
"Van Wall!" Barclay called out. The pilot quickly made his way through the hallway and carefully stepped over the various pieces of debris on the floor. "Yeah, Bar?" the pilot asked Barclay. "Did you pay any attention when Boris was flying that helicopter today?" Barclay asked him. "Yes," Van Wall replied. "Good, because you've seen the radio room, so you know that we can't call for help. We're gonna search for more possible survivors, and then we're going to make sure that any imitation we find is completely destroyed. I'm gonna search for the casings from my gun," Barclay said as he knelt down on the ground and began looking the ejected casings of his M1911's rounds.
"Hopefully, the generator to this place is still working, because if we don't finish up soon, we'll have to stay overnight," Barclay said as he picked up the casings before putting them in his jacket pockets. "But, Van Wall? Keep that Browning out with you, just in case," Barclay said as he noticed Van Wall's pistol. "I understand," Van Wall said as he nodded his head.
A few minutes later, the group continued moving through the rest of the station, searching for signs of life. Eventually, they came across the infirmary, where they found a corpse slumped against the wall, with a flamethrower in their hands, and a burned corpse on a table in the infirmary. The body looked partially human, but the left arm was split open with the hand forming sharp claws, and the neck and head were elongated with fangs and arachnid legs protruding from the lower abdomen. The entire body was scorched, while the corpse on the floor had a bloody hole in his chest.
Moving on, the men entered the lab, where they found the one mummified alien corpse still intact, while the other corpse was lying in the corner, burnt with tendrils and its body partially transformed into something else. There was also a discarded revolver on the floor, along with shell casings nearby. After searching through the rest of the facility, the men of Hawke Station concluded that there were no more bodies to be found. All ten of the Soviet research crew members were dead.
After another hour had passed, Silva used the last bit of film in his camera. "That's all she wrote," Silva said as he looked over at Barclay. "So, what do we do now?" Atkins asked. "We have to burn the bodies," Barclay said. "All of them?" Dutton asked him. "Yes. We know that Boris is probably human, but we can't take that risk with the others. We have to be certain that none of them can come back," Barclay said.
"That'll take us a while to take care of," Silva said. "Then we'd best get started," Barclay said solemnly. Over the next hour, the men of Hawke Station gathered up the bodies throughout Lazarev Station and dragged them outside before making sure that they were properly incinerated, burning the other charred corpses as well for insurance. "Van Wall, get that helicopter ready," Barclay said after he finished burning the last corpse.
Van Wall nodded his head and quickly made his way over the Mil Mi-17. "We're gonna do one last sweep of the station before we leave. Make sure that we didn't miss anything," Barclay said as he grabbed the Soviet flamethrower and hefted it onto his back. "Silva, you stay here with Van Wall. Atkins and Dutton, come with me," Barclay said before he began making one last trek through the partially destroyed Soviet camp.
Author's Notes: And that's chapter seven. The next chapter features our cast reuniting back at Hawke Station before tensions begin to rise as the implications of the shredded underwear become clear after someone plays Macready's audio log again.
Be sure to let me know what you guys think in your reviews.
