Chapter Eight


Eight men armed with handguns descended the stairs leading into the heart of the colony. Seventeen floors below sat the colony's reactor. Their trackers blipped quietly, picking up nothing. They had tracked the creature moving in air ducts nearly two hours earlier, never seeing it. There were no pets here in Pheonix, and no rats. The only thing they could be following was It.

And now they were following it into the very bowels of the place. A few minutes earlier it had appeared on their trackers, but now it was gone. The man in charge, Johnson was his name, asked everyone to stop.

"I've got something," he said, pointing to his left. "Over there."

Among the group of men was Donald Watson. He had volunteered to go searching for the creature. He wanted that thing's head on his wall. It would make an interesting piece next to his picture of the Mona Lisa and his college degree. The gun in his hand was getting heavy, and the air was getting thicker, hotter. They were getting closer to the reactor.

All around them, machinery was pounding, making a lot of noise. Everyone was looking a bit jumpy, a bit nervous. Now they all swung their trackers to the left, and each one picked up a blip.

"It's over there, all right," Donald muttered.

The group continued down the stairs, moving in silence. On their trackers, the white blip was moving slowly. It was moving away from them.

After several minutes, the signal began to fade. Several moments later, it disappeared altogether.

"Shit!" Johnson hissed. "Where the fuck is that bastard?"

Donald saw that everyone was sweeping their trackers in front of them and to the side. He had an idea, and if he picked up a signal he knew it would scare the shit out of him. He swung his tracker around to his right and then behind the group. Beep. Nine meters.

"Jesus Christ," Donald muttered. "It's behind us."

Johnson and the rest of the group turned and picked up the same signal on their trackers. Eight meters and closing.

"The little shit is coming right for us," Johnson said. His face was covered with sweat.

Everyone knew they were looking for a creature no larger than your average cat, so why were they all scared shitless? They all had guns, and they all knew how to pull a trigger. So why were they worried?

"Seven meters," someone said. "God help us."

"Remember, aim for the body," Johnson said. "If we all shoot, it doesn't have a chance."

Six meters and coming closer. Donald felt his knees begin to tremble. His gun was pointed in front of him, and it was beginning to weigh down his arm. Jesus, he thought. Either come or stay there. Just do it fast.

"Wait," Donald said, turning to his right. "It's moving to the side."

"Little bastard," Johnson mumbled.

Donald took a step forward. His tracker read five meters. And it was still moving to the side.

"It's coming around behind us again," Johnson said, annoyed.

Everyone turned around again with their trackers and pointed their weapons forward. Nothing. Not one signal.

Donald was just about to say "This is wrong", when something hissed behind him. He turned around and saw, five feet in front of him, a dark figure with claws, a tail, and sharp teeth. It drooled and stared at him.

"No eyes," Donald whispered dryly.

Johnson turned to look at Donald. "What the hell are you talk--"

It struck. Johnson got off a shot before the black creature burst forward and wrapped its hands around his throat and lifted him off of the floor. The thing threw him violently, snapping his neck. The rest of the group was too frightened to do a damn thing. Donald made a move.

Completely unaware of what he was doing, Donald turned to the creature and fired three times into its back, removing a large chunk of it. The alien screamed and turned to face its attacker. The unfortunate people behind the alien were immediately drenched with its acidic blood. The screams of pain which followed are too horrible to describe.

One person had been untouched by the acid, and somehow found himself turning and running back the way they had come. Donald and the alien were left alone. The alien rushed at him, inner mouth exposed. He got off two more shots before the creature bit into his skull, crushing it, releasing chunks of bloody brain. The man never had time to scream.


Trevor heard the news while he was eating in the mess hall. One survivor. A man who was blabbering about demons and how they were all going to die. Trevor didn't have to be told. He knew it wasn't Donald. Donald was dead.