DATE: 24TH JUNE 2179. TIME- 21:44
Pooled with shadows, smelling vaguely of oil and grease and surrounded by the modular pre-fabricated forms of Hadley's Hope, the outside of the colony had never been a festive place suitable for a picnic, but now the atmosphere was downright sinister.
They moved out in single file with Brackett on point. He moved very slowly, looking to his right and then to his left, each of his steps deliberate. That fuckers out here man, one mistake is all it will take.
A violent howl of wind caused a loose panel to vibrate in a nearby roof. Bracketts eyes scanned the rooftop quickly and his shoulders raised against the biting wind again, but otherwise there was no reaction from him. Gotta be cool man. Can't let no leaky roof scare you.
Slowly they made their way over to the entrance of the bar. There were no windows and the door was shut but light was spilling out from underneath it. They paused to search for any signs of movement within. Nothing.
'Death lives here' whispered Anne to herself.
As Brackett was preparing to breach the doorway the large form of Morse silently appeared. He gave the door an almighty kick and before Brackett could say anything he was inside.
Morse's entrance to the bar was instructive and more than a little intriguing. Both hands on the weapon, arms out straight and locked, the shotgun just below his line of sight. He cleared the doorway fast, slid to the left, his back against the wall. He swung the shotgun from left to right covering the room. His performance had been professional and instinctive.
'Clear' he called.
The rest of the group piled in after him and shut the door behind them, ostensibly to keep the weather out, but also to protect their rear. They studied the bar, and in contrast to the wind outside the silence was deafening. Tables and chairs had been knocked over onto the wooden floor but what was most obvious was what wasn't there. The alien or its victims.
'Hey Morse, where the hell did you learn to do that?' asked a clearly surprised Russell.
'Eight years in the Corps' the big man replied, his eyes constantly searching for threats.
'You never said you were in the marines'
'You never asked.'
Brackett felt the need to reclaim control of the situation. 'OK, let's spread out and start looking for clues. You find anything you sing out, clear?'
It was Anne who found something first. She had just righted a table, and in doing so revealed the stump of a human arm. She gasped as she staggered back and immediately Morse was there next to her, ready to shoot. Once it became clear there was no immediate danger he relaxed, bent down and carefully picked up the arm by the overall sleeve and placed it down on the same table Anne had just put back. From the slim, delicate fingers it was clear that this was a woman's right arm. At the other end of the limb, which ended mid-way along the ulna, the ragged lump of bone suggested that it had been snapped off.
They proceeded deeper into the bar. Stains that had originally appeared perfectly in keeping with a dive bar were turning out to be made from blood on closer inspection. At the back of the bar was a corridor with the men's and ladies restroom doors on one side and a swing door that led to the kitchen on the other. All of them were shut. Brackett and Morse led the party towards the corridor. There was a lot more blood here, and it seemed to be in the form of drag marks. Drag marks that ended at the door to the kitchen. Brackett held his hand up to stop the group, then nodded at Morse, then the door, then gave him a silent three count using his fingers.
Morse's crossing the threshold technique was even smoother than before. Again he moved to the left of the door as he swept the room. Immediately Brackett followed him in, shotgun at the ready.
'Clear.'
The room may have been empty but it still stopped them dead in their tracks. Torrents of blood had splashed against the tiled walls, metal work surfaces, even the ceiling, and was still running in some places. The smell was metallic and cloying.
Where the extractor fan had been was now nothing but a messy hole in the wall and it was clear that this is where the creature had made its egress. The blood was thicker here, and smeared all around the hole, evidence of where the bodies had gone. A couple of bright red bloody handprints stood out vividly against the white ceramic tiles, as if someone had tried to prevent themselves from being dragged through the gap and failed. The implications of this were clear, not everyone had been dead when they had been taken.