Prologue
The man glanced around, senses keen to divine any possible threat. Breathing. The sound was coming from somewhere. He had learned what many hadn't, and those many had paid with blood and soul; even a single sound, the faint wisp of breath, like a whispered kiss on the neck of a lover, could spell doom. This wasn't his home. He knew it, and it knew it. There was no safety, no rest, no freedom. Around each corner, deep in crevices, and creeping through the air; death was waiting to pounce.
There was a moment of eery epiphany when the man realized the breath burning in his ears was his own. It came in ragged gasps; inhuman. He no longer strode with the bearing of a man, proud and confident. He skulked in shadows, jumping at specters. Once the hunter, now the hunted.
He gained some comfort by squeezing the shotgun in his hands. It was solid. It was truth. It was life.
Continuing on his hurried trek, he ascended two hills plentiful with vegetation that wasn't quite. Not plant and not animal, everything in this land seemed to be hostile.
Listening to his thrashing heart left his mind to wander, and he nearly lost his life for it. He shrieked and rolled to his side as a barbed tentacle lashed out, sensing his nearness. But the plant-thing couldn't move and couldn't follow. He carefully edged his way out of the thing's range and ran on.
No more hiding. He was in full sprint now. Home was so very close.
Aroused by the noise and commotion, a bulbous headed horror floated into sight. Its grotesque, squinty eyes scanned the ground from where it hovered twenty feet in the air, groping for a vision of the intruder. A screech of triumph echoed in the thin, green atmosphere when it spotted the bright orange suit.
The screech was promptly silenced by a much deeper, throaty bellow; an angry burst from the shotgun, pumping two shells into the thing's ripe, melon-like head. Falling dead to the mossy turf, it was harmless. But the damage was already done. The call had been made. Now reinforcements were only a question of when.
Taking no time to praise the kill, the shocked man sprinted on. He covered a familiar-looking plateau, pausing to glance back. He deeply regretted this action and redoubled his speed. Finally, he reached the mouth of the cave.
There was a transmitter there, sitting in humble attire; weather beaten and faded. The man had never seen anything so beautiful. He pounded the buttons, screeching into the receiver, "Please! Help me...I'm here!"
A disembodied voice came back through the box. "Do you have it?"
"Yes! Please hurry!" He withdrew the object from his pack and admired it for a moment. The dull yellow crystal was unimpressive to his unlearned eye. All it was to him was a source of frustration and terror.
The cold, emotionless voice came back without praise, only more orders. "Place it in the teleporter that appears."
"What...what about me?"
"Do as you are told. We will only run one at a time."
"But I don't have that time!" He didn't bother to listen to the response, if there was any.
A bright, flickering ball of green energy spontaneously appeared at his side, humming with barely contained electricity. The voice had spoken the truth: this teleporter was much too small for a whole person. Having no choice but to obey, the man shoved the crystal into the beam, watching happily as it disappeared.
He glanced back once again and all happiness vanished. He would not be alone for much longer.
"Ok, I'm ready! Send one for me!"
There was a pause.
His heart was pounding with a fierce note, like some primitive jungle beat. It was the knowledge of certain death that prompted the buzzing cadence.
"We cannot expend that energy. You usefulness is at its end."
The man gulped. Understanding, but not accepting. Then he furiously kicked the mechanical box, tears of betrayal flushing his face.
Now new sounds were building. Squawks and screams and calls. Shadows began to take form all around him. The end was at hand.
He pleaded with the merciless sky. Its shifting colors were dizzying. Like after a summer rainstorm, the light shone through and waved, dividing the canopy into a miasma of shades. But this rainbow held no promise of redemption or peace. This was a sky of naught but death and plague and pestilence.
Grasping the shotgun as his only anchor to reality, he checked his remaining ammunition. One shell. From all his pockets and magazines, there sat only a single shell. The answer was clear. Although there was no brilliant ball of energy, he had found his ticket home.
The shotgun felt very heavy as its dark, cyclopic eye stared him in the face. With serene, almost content limbs, he held it at arm's length, breathed a pronounced sigh of relief, and squeezed the trigger.
Trickles of blood seeped into the alien soil. The man fell, faceless and nameless. Not the first and certainly not the last to die in a land impossibly far from home.
The man glanced around, senses keen to divine any possible threat. Breathing. The sound was coming from somewhere. He had learned what many hadn't, and those many had paid with blood and soul; even a single sound, the faint wisp of breath, like a whispered kiss on the neck of a lover, could spell doom. This wasn't his home. He knew it, and it knew it. There was no safety, no rest, no freedom. Around each corner, deep in crevices, and creeping through the air; death was waiting to pounce.
There was a moment of eery epiphany when the man realized the breath burning in his ears was his own. It came in ragged gasps; inhuman. He no longer strode with the bearing of a man, proud and confident. He skulked in shadows, jumping at specters. Once the hunter, now the hunted.
He gained some comfort by squeezing the shotgun in his hands. It was solid. It was truth. It was life.
Continuing on his hurried trek, he ascended two hills plentiful with vegetation that wasn't quite. Not plant and not animal, everything in this land seemed to be hostile.
Listening to his thrashing heart left his mind to wander, and he nearly lost his life for it. He shrieked and rolled to his side as a barbed tentacle lashed out, sensing his nearness. But the plant-thing couldn't move and couldn't follow. He carefully edged his way out of the thing's range and ran on.
No more hiding. He was in full sprint now. Home was so very close.
Aroused by the noise and commotion, a bulbous headed horror floated into sight. Its grotesque, squinty eyes scanned the ground from where it hovered twenty feet in the air, groping for a vision of the intruder. A screech of triumph echoed in the thin, green atmosphere when it spotted the bright orange suit.
The screech was promptly silenced by a much deeper, throaty bellow; an angry burst from the shotgun, pumping two shells into the thing's ripe, melon-like head. Falling dead to the mossy turf, it was harmless. But the damage was already done. The call had been made. Now reinforcements were only a question of when.
Taking no time to praise the kill, the shocked man sprinted on. He covered a familiar-looking plateau, pausing to glance back. He deeply regretted this action and redoubled his speed. Finally, he reached the mouth of the cave.
There was a transmitter there, sitting in humble attire; weather beaten and faded. The man had never seen anything so beautiful. He pounded the buttons, screeching into the receiver, "Please! Help me...I'm here!"
A disembodied voice came back through the box. "Do you have it?"
"Yes! Please hurry!" He withdrew the object from his pack and admired it for a moment. The dull yellow crystal was unimpressive to his unlearned eye. All it was to him was a source of frustration and terror.
The cold, emotionless voice came back without praise, only more orders. "Place it in the teleporter that appears."
"What...what about me?"
"Do as you are told. We will only run one at a time."
"But I don't have that time!" He didn't bother to listen to the response, if there was any.
A bright, flickering ball of green energy spontaneously appeared at his side, humming with barely contained electricity. The voice had spoken the truth: this teleporter was much too small for a whole person. Having no choice but to obey, the man shoved the crystal into the beam, watching happily as it disappeared.
He glanced back once again and all happiness vanished. He would not be alone for much longer.
"Ok, I'm ready! Send one for me!"
There was a pause.
His heart was pounding with a fierce note, like some primitive jungle beat. It was the knowledge of certain death that prompted the buzzing cadence.
"We cannot expend that energy. You usefulness is at its end."
The man gulped. Understanding, but not accepting. Then he furiously kicked the mechanical box, tears of betrayal flushing his face.
Now new sounds were building. Squawks and screams and calls. Shadows began to take form all around him. The end was at hand.
He pleaded with the merciless sky. Its shifting colors were dizzying. Like after a summer rainstorm, the light shone through and waved, dividing the canopy into a miasma of shades. But this rainbow held no promise of redemption or peace. This was a sky of naught but death and plague and pestilence.
Grasping the shotgun as his only anchor to reality, he checked his remaining ammunition. One shell. From all his pockets and magazines, there sat only a single shell. The answer was clear. Although there was no brilliant ball of energy, he had found his ticket home.
The shotgun felt very heavy as its dark, cyclopic eye stared him in the face. With serene, almost content limbs, he held it at arm's length, breathed a pronounced sigh of relief, and squeezed the trigger.
Trickles of blood seeped into the alien soil. The man fell, faceless and nameless. Not the first and certainly not the last to die in a land impossibly far from home.