darkstorm5000: Hey, thanks again for the review. That procedure … yeah … I agree with you on that.
Chapter Four: Under the Cover of Darkness
North of the Jornada del Muerto, New Mexico
"You know," Ana said, "when you said you were going to be arriving on a private plane, I thought it'd be some pond-jumping Cessna." She pointed to the jet behind Joey. "I didn't expect some suped-up military jet."
"It's nice to see you too, Ana," Joey said, holding out his hand. "How long has it been? 'Bout five years?"
"Something like that," she replied, smiling. "I'm sorry to have heard about your father," she said sincerely. "He was a good man."
"Thanks," Joey replied. "I woulda invited you to the funeral, but I didn't know how to contact you."
"It's alright," she said. "I didn't find out until I called your mother." Behind her, two men stepped out of a ranch house, and walked over to them.
"Ana," the first man asked. "Is this him?"
"Yeah," she replied. "Joey, this is Marty Childress, our resident physicist. Marty, this is Joey." She motioned towards the man on her left. "This is Brian Dyerson, the only other person to stick it out with me after the … after … after what happened."
"How's it goin'," Joey greeted the second man. He was short, and though he had a bit of a belly, he was still relatively muscular. He sported a Van Dyke, and his eyes exuded intelligence. The other man, Marty, was tall, and sinewy, with a full beard.
"We're much obliged," Marty said.
Before Joey could answer him, the others walked up behind him, taking in the three people before them. "How do you do," Scott asked, introducing the others.
"Pretty good, considering the circumstances," Ana answered.
"What exactly happened," Bishop asked, cutting to the point. He sized up the woman in front of him. Just by the way she carried herself, he could tell she had a rare toughness that few women, or men, for that matter, could ever attain. She was dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans, the knees almost white with wear, and a black sleeveless shirt that showed the barest amount of midriff. Her hair was pulled back into an incredibly tight pony tail underneath an old, black Stetson. A pair of old, scuffed cowboy boots adorned her feet. She didn't wear any makeup (though, to be honest, he didn't think she needed any), and thought that she probably wouldn't have worn it even in the most high-class setting.
"It would be better, and easier, if I were to explain that once we get to the camp," Ana replied.
"And how were you planning on getting us there," Scott asked.
"We were planning on taking horses into the Jornada."
"It'd be faster if we were to take our jet," he replied.
"True," Ana replied. She took in the plane behind him, her eyes shrewdly going over it. "We'd have to pack enough supplies; water, food, first-aid kits, tents."
"Tents," Scott asked.
"Yeah," she replied. She stared at him evenly, her eyes cool and calculating. From her set face, Scott could see she would not change her plans, even if they had not arrived. And she was also ready for an argument. "I'm not going to have the deaths of two innocent people be for nothing." She looked between the newcomers. "We found something that may very well send shockwaves throughout the scientific world."
"And what would that happen to be," Celeste asked, curiosity overwhelming her.
"It's probably better if you see it yourself," Ana replied, looking at the other woman. "I doubt you'd believe it otherwise."
"How long do you think it will take to prepare everything," Scott asked Ana, silently acquiescing to staying in the desert.
"Only a few minutes; we've already got almost everything ready," she replied. She motioned towards the ranch house. "If you'll help us, we can get the supplies loaded up real quick like."
"Yeah, we can help," Scott answered, the others already making a beeline for the entrance to the house.
- - - -
"This is where he was found," Scott asked.
"Yeah," Ana answered. They were standing in her dig site, just above one of the excavations. "I found Aaron's body down there," she pointed into the excavation. "He … uh … had his throat torn out, and … his stomach cut open."
"And, you said you saw a werewolf," Bishop asked.
"Yeah," she answered. "I was woke up in the middle of the night, maybe one, or two in the morning, by a loud … roar." She looked at them, trying to discern whether they thought her to be crazy. Seeing that they seemed to be believing her, she continued. "So, I grabbed my boots and my flashlight, and came outside to see what I'd heard. I saw Marty and Brian standing outside, too."
"It woke us up, as well," the physicist explained. "It came from over there." He pointed to an area maybe twenty feet away from the excavation.
"And did you see it," Bishop asked.
"Yeah," Ana replied. "I saw it." She looked up to Bishop, her eyes glowing with anger. "I saw its fucking face. Its fur was matted with blood."
Before Bishop could respond with another question, the three of them heard Joey yell out, "Hey, guys, come over here! I think I found something." They looked up to see him standing beyond the dig site, waving his arm. He, Celeste, Kurt, and Angela were looking for tracks, blood spoor, hair, anything that would show that there had been something there. They'd started at the excavation, and had fanned out from there. They were now almost a hundred feet away.
"What do you think it is," Ana asked.
"We don't know," Scott asked, as he started moving towards Joey.
When they got to where Joey was standing, the others had already arrived. They found Celeste crouched on the ground, holding what looked to be a shiny, black stick. It was maybe a foot long, the ends of it wider than the center, almost like a long bone. At one end, it looked as if it had been almost ripped off of a tree, pieces of the …bark sticking out at awkward angles. At the other end was a single thorn, almost claw-like in appearance. On either side of the thorn, there were fleshy wounds that seemed to indicate that whatever had been there, had been yanked off incredibly violently. As they watched, Celeste turned the … stick so she could look at one of the ends. But, as she did so, a watery, red-orange liquid ran out onto the ground.
"My God," Brian exclaimed, "what the hell is that smell?" He pulled the front of his T-shirt over his nose, the smell almost making him gag.
"It smells like," Ana began, crouching down next to Celeste. "It smells like …"
"Like rotting fish," Celeste finished. She examined where the liquid had fallen, trying desperately to ignore the smell.
"Exactly," Ana replied. She, too, was looking at the spot where the liquid had fallen. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but it kind of looked like ….
She and Celeste both stood up suddenly, looking at each other. "It can't be," Celeste said.
"But, if it is, then its never been discovered," Ana replied.
"But, it wouldn't be able to survive to be this big, let alone walk at this size," Celeste countered.
"True," Ana acquiesced. She stood for a moment contemplating the shaft in Celeste's hands. "What if it is something else, something that we've never seen before?"
"I suppose that's possible," Celeste answered thoughtfully.
"Okay, what are you two talking about," Scott asked, thoroughly lost.
"We think we know what this is," Ana answered.
"We think it's a part of a leg," Celeste said.
"The leg of what," Joey asked.
"The leg of an insectoid," Celeste replied.
"An insectoid," he repeated softly. He seemed to digest this for a moment, and then asked, "So, you mean this was a part of a giant cockroach?"
"Maybe," she answered. "But, I won't know until I do some tests on it." She held it away from her body, and parallel with the ground so any excess blood wouldn't come spilling out. "I need to take it back to the mini-lab I've got on the jet."
- - - -
It was dusk by the time Celeste finished analyzing the partial leg. Walking out of the jet, she turned her flashlight on, and headed towards the fire where the others were sitting. Incredible, she thought, thinking over what she had discovered about the organism the leg belonged to. It she was correct, it was a previously unknown genus. Normally, the idea of discovering anything new would have had her absolutely giddy with excitement. But, for some reason, she had her reservations about what Joey had discovered. Something seemed to just … be totally wrong about it. But, it was more an intuition than actual observation. Something about the idea of that arm resting in the jet unsettled her stomach.
As she neared the others, though, she pushed her doubts aside. They were depending on her to give them the facts, and that was what she planned to do. "So what is it," Joey asked, as she entered the light of the fire.
"To be honest," Celeste replied, grimacing, "I don't really know."
"Then, how about a ballpark," Scott inquired.
"Well," she replied. "It's definitely insectoid. The exterior of the arm was covered in a soft, but durable layer of tissue. It was akin to the skin of a whale, or porpoise. Just below that, was a thick, extremely hard, non-chitinous exoskeleton."
"Non-chitinous," Scott asked.
"Yes," Celeste replied. "All arthropods, that is insects, spiders, crustaceans, etcetera, all have exoskeletons of chitin." She scratched her head, her face puzzled. "But, this, it didn't have chitin at all. In fact, its shell, if you will, was made of a polymer that I've never seen before."
The previously quiet Brian, sitting on the other side of the fire, looked up at her. "So you have no idea what this was a part of?"
"No," Celeste replied. "No idea whatsoever." Brian seemed content at that, and went back to studying the book he had with him.
"Let me ask," Ana began, as Celeste sat down between her and Joey, "what you have your degrees in?"
"You really want to know," the other woman asked, looking the slightest bit sheepish.
"Of course," Ana replied. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know."
Celeste shrugged. "I have a PhD in biomechanical engineering, and master's degrees in comparative anatomy and physiology, and biochemistry."
"Hmm," Ana replied. "Maybe I shouldn't have asked," she added, facetiously.
"No," Celeste replied, smiling. "Maybe you shouldn't have." She breathed in the cool, desert night air. Looking at the fire, she let her mind wander. After a moment, she turned towards Ana. "You know, I understand why you're here." She looked towards Marty, who was animatedly talking with Kurt. Apparently, the physicist was trying to determine exactly how Kurt was able to teleport. "And I understand why he's here." She looked towards Brian, who was still studying his book, and ignoring everyone else. "But, I don't know why he's here."
Ana smiled slightly. "Aaron and Brian were best friends. They go back to their freshman year as undergrads. Aaron had been a nerdy kid who had too much nervous energy. Brian was a black kid from Queens with a penchant for country music. They became best of friends almost immediately."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Ana replied. "In fact, Aaron was going to be Brian's best man…." She looked at him, studying his book silently. "But, he hasn't said much since we found Aaron's body. From what he's said to me, it seems almost as if he blames himself."
"Any idea why," Celeste asked.
"No." Ana looked at Celeste, the fire casting her face in an eerie light. "But, when I tried to ask him, he shut down, and didn't say anything."
"Interesting," Celeste murmured. She looked around camp, watching as Angela sat down opposite Kurt. Not for the first time, Celeste wondered if he realized that she had, to put it mildly, a bit of a crush on him. Maybe it's more than that, she thought. She turned her head, catching movement out of her eye. It was Scott, walking near the very edge of the light of the fire. He had adamantly insisted that they set up a watch throughout the night. Right now, he and Bishop were patrolling the outskirts of camp. She thought it was just another example of Scott's super anal retentiveness taking over again. But, looking at them, she remembered something the Ana had said earlier. "Wasn't there something that you wanted to show us," Celeste asked, turning towards the other woman.
"Yes," Ana replied tentatively. "But, let us leave that business for the morning."
"Okay," Celeste replied, casually. Once again, her attention was drawn towards Scott and Bishop. She yawned, looking at them, her eyes watering. No sense postponing the inevitable, she thought. "I suppose I should get to sleep," she told Ana. "I should get some sleep before my watch."
- - - -
What woke her up was the massive hand over her mouth. Waking almost instantly, she stifled the shock of being surprised when she saw Joey standing over her. His face, his mannerisms, even, seemed to suggest he was suddenly on edge. She lowered her brow. "Is it my watch already," she half-yawned.
He shook his head stoically. No. He put his finger over his mouth – he was telling her to be quiet.
Again, she lowered her brow questioningly. Something didn't seem quite right; Joey was rarely ever this quiet.
He kneeled down to her level, and his mouth coming within an inch of her ear. "We've got company," he whispered harshly.
Adrenaline raced through her system, her breath catching in her chest, as she hurriedly got out of her sleeping bag, and put on her shoes. Without giving it a second thought, she changed into her malleable form, dull blue light radiating from her skin as she did. She followed Joey outside, the air cooler than what it had been when she went to sleep. Looking up at the sky, she saw the false dawn of early morning.
"What happened," she whispered to Joey.
"Me an' Scott heard heavy footsteps outside camp," he said. He led her to where the others were gathered, pointing out an odd-looking track along the way. "Whatever is making the footsteps," he explained, "also came running through the camp less than five minutes ago."
She stiffened, hearing what he said. "And neither of you got a good look at it?"
"No," he replied. "Whatever it was, it moved pretty damn fast." As they approached the others, they saw Angela take to the air as quietly as she could.
"I just asked Angela to do some aerial reconnaissance," Scott said softly. "She should be back in a few minutes."
"What's going on," Ana asked. Standing next to Marty, she happened to notice a small tattoo on his right shoulder. It was a small quarter circle, with … a massive bonfire in the middle.
"Something ran through camp," Scott replied. "Something that was big, and on two legs."
"But, you don't know what," the normally quiet Brian asked.
"No," Scott answered. "Not yet." As he finished speaking, Angela landed, a grim expression on her face. "Do you have any idea what or where they are?"
"I don't know what they are," she replied. "But, as far as where they are, that's the wrong question." She leaned in, almost conspiratorially. "The question should be: where aren't they?"
"How many?"
"Thousands, and they're all around us, circling in," Angela replied.
"Did you get a good look at them," Scott asked.
"No." Her wings were extended in apprehension, great white curtains that seemed to make her a massive bird of prey. "I only saw them because moonlight seems to be reflecting off of their … hides."
He nodded slightly, weighing the options behind his stoic countenance. "Kurt? Can you teleport me to the jet?"
"Ja," Kurt replied. "Of course." He took a hold of Scott, the both of them disappearing with the sound of gas rushing into a vacuum, and a dark, sulfurous cloud.
They reappeared a moment later, inside the jet. Scott took a step back, battling nausea, and trying to get the smell of brimstone out of his nose. "We're going to get out of here," Scott told him. "Get the others." As Kurt teleported away, Scott turned towards the front of the plane. Taking the pilot's seat, he happened to notice a flashing light telling him the computer had recorded a message from one of the other X-Men. Curious, he decided to play the message.
Immediately static filled his ears, the reception obviously not all that great. "This is Wolverine to any X-Men…." The message turned to static again, the signal going in and out. "We're in L.A." … more static … "the middle of a war zone. …Need backup … me an' Jeannie're in … zone …. Repeat … need backup." Throughout the message, Logan had been breathing hard, his voice haggard from overuse. But, Logan must have left the communicator on, as, in the background, Scott heard an inhuman roar. And it wasn't Logan. Or Jean. Gunshots echoed through the speakers; the blasts so close, they hurt his ears. And then, despite the static, Scott heard Logan growl, so loud it was as if he was yelling in his ear, "It'll take more than silver bullets ta keep me down." Then, he heard Logan's roar, followed then by another. It wasn't the same one he'd heard before, and it wasn't Logan's. With a shock, he realized it had to have been Jean. The message continued on for a few more moments, screams of pain echoing out as Logan and Jean attacked … something.
Kurt teleported in behind him, the distinctive sound startling him – making him jump. He turned around, seeing Kurt standing next to Celeste. "Kurt, you…" Before he could even finish his sentence, the entire jet shuddered violently, sending them all crashing to their knees. "What was that?" As if in answer, the jet shuddered again, this time the sound of metal screeching against metal sending goosebumps down his back.
"My God," Celeste exclaimed. "That was the fucking wing!"
"What," Scott asked, almost yelling.
"I think something's trying to tear off the fucking wing." The jet shuddered again, the metal screeching much louder. "And doing a right good job of it."
"Open the hatch," Scott said. "We need to stop this thing, whatever it is, from destroying the jet." He motioned her forward. She cautiously started opening the door, her back to the wall beside it. Turning the handle, she nodded towards Cyclops, who nodded back. With a sudden, heaving force, she thrust the door outward into the night air to discover … nothing. "What's going on here," Cyclops asked, looking out the door. Looking back at the wing, he saw that something seemed to have literally pulled the wing half off.
Suddenly, it occurred to him that he should be able to see something. From his vantage, he could see almost the entire side of the jet except … above and below him. He jumped back with the realization, just in time to avoid a large, clawed hand lash out where his stomach had been just seconds before. Had it not been for the realization, he thought surreally, he'd be wearing his guts for garters.
Whatever was attached to the other side of the black, clawed hand started pulling itself up into the jet. As the thing came into view in all its glory, Cyclops couldn't help but reminded of the creatures from the "Alien" movies. The thing in front of them had a long, black head, its mouth set with two-inch long, razor sharp teeth. Its eyes were small, brown, and beady, exuding malice. The back of its head separated into two massive bony frills. They curved upward, almost making the creature look as if it had an atrocity of a crown. On either side of its lower jaws were ash-gray, six inch tusks that seemed sharpened to points. Its hands were thick, and strong, with massive talons at the ends of the digits. Its clawed feet dug into the metal beneath it, metal screeching in protest as it deformed. Its entire body seemed to glisten with water … or mucus.
Cyclops stepped back from the thing standing in the doorway, momentarily surprised. The creature bared its teeth, and growled. Suddenly, the tusks extended forward with a wet, unsheathing sound. They had extended from their original six inches to an impressive two feet. The creature roared … almost victoriously, shaking its head from side to side; impressive considering the elephantine pieces of bone sticking out of its head. The sudden sound spurred the X-Man into action. As the creature lowered its head, Cyclops raised his hand to his visor, and fired a powerful optic blast. With the force of a speeding train, the creature crashed through the open door of the jet, a sofa-sized piece of the wall going with it.
"What was that thing," Shift asked.
"I don't know," Cyclops answered, walking towards the door. "But, there's an awful lot more of them." He pointed to the area near the wing, several dark shapes moving about, the slightest reflection being cast off from their skins. "Kurt, contact the mansion. Tell them we need help."
The smaller man sat down in the cockpit, turning on the radio. Before he could start tuning it, though, he heard a loud thump behind him, followed by Shift yelling, "Nightcrawler, look out!" He looked behind him, only to see Cyclops sitting against the wall of the jet, holding his head. But, even more alarming, another creature was charging, its tusks fully extended, and was almost upon him. He teleported out of the way, leaving his trademark sulfurous smoke. Reappearing behind it, he was just in time to see its tusks fully sink into the consoles. Suddenly, a pair of clay-colored tentacles shot forward, and started wrapping themselves around the creature.
"Let's see how you like being a pimple," Shift exclaimed coldly. Her tentacles shifted, and began coiling tighter. Like a massive python around its prey, she began tightening the coils, faint cracking sounds resounding through the cabin. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, a much louder cracking sound resonated throughout the small space, followed by a fountain of red-orange gore that exploded through the creature's skull.
"Did you have to do that inside the jet," Cyclops asked irritably. The … fountain of gore had made a massive, dripping stain on the roof of the cabin. Holding his head, he stepped carefully forward, trying to avoid the largest puddles of viscera.
"Would you've preferred I'd let him destroy the jet," she shot back, almost slipping in the blood. "Christ," she exclaimed. "And I thought that little bit smelled horrible."
Cyclops did his best to ignore the smell, which, in his opinion, was a colossal feat in and of itself. He noticed Nightcrawler seemed a little green, holding the back of his hand to his mouth. He moved cautiously towards the controls, cognizant not only of what he was stepping in, but also that there were still creatures outside the jet, doing who knew what. As he reached the controls, he frowned at what he saw. "Damn," he cursed silently, hanging his head.
"What is it," Kurt asked, stepping gingerly behind him.
"That … creature," he began, "it destroyed the radio controls. We're not going to be able to contact the mansion."
"What about the homing beacon," Celeste asked, holding her shirt over her nose.
"What homing beacon," Scott asked.
"The new GPS-linked homing beacon me and Hank installed – what? Two weeks ago," she asked.
Behind his visor, Scott seemed to be boring holes through her. "You neglected to mention that to us."
"Oh." Celeste moved cautiously over the stinking guts, not wanting to get any more smell on her. "It's right here," she said, flicking a switch to the left of the pilot's seat. Almost immediately, the light above it began flashing, indicating the beacon was transmitting.
"And they'll get that at the mansion," Scott asked.
"Yes," Celeste said, "assuming that all's well."
"Good," Scott nodded slightly. "Now, let's get back to the others."
"We're not staying here," Celeste asked, slightly surprised.
"No," Scott replied. "It would be too hard to defend the jet." He looked between Kurt and Celeste. "Besides, if there are as many as Angela thought, we're going to need the room to fight."
"Thanks for the comforting words, One-Eye," she replied sarcastically, as both she and Kurt disappeared in a cloud of dark, sulfurous gas.
- - - -
Scott and Kurt appeared suddenly, just a few feet from the fire. Around the fire, the others had gathered, obviously waiting for the plan.
"So what are we going to do," Bishop asked.
"We're going to have to fight here; we're not going to have much more a choice."
The bigger man frowned at this, but didn't say anything. He didn't want to say anything, but he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they would be lucky to survive.
"Bishop, Angela, and myself are going to keep as many of them from getting up close. Celeste, Kurt, and Joey are going to take down as many as they can that get past us. Which only leaves you three." Scott motioned towards Ana, Marty, and Brian.
"You don't have to worry about me and Brian," Marty said.
"Why's that," Ana asked.
"Let's just say I have a few … tricks up my sleeves."
"And Brian," Ana asked. She didn't bother to ask any more of Marty. Though she trusted him completely, he shared little of his life outside of his work. He'd even been known to skirt topic altogether.
"Let's just say I never thought I'd go down in a hail of blood and glory," Brian said.
"How did you think you were going to die," Ana asked, unable to resist.
He smiled wryly. "I always thought I'd get killed by a silver bullet."
- - - -
Canadian Rockies, Three Days Earlier
Logan stood on the small front porch, smoking a cigar. The cool night air was refreshing against his face, invigorating his very being. He looked up at the cloudless sky, and the fields upon fields of bright stars. He looked through the window into the cabin, and saw Jean, Michael, and Selene were preparing for the trip they were about to make. In a couple of minutes, he knew, Jean was going to get him to come back in, to help them. But, for the moment, he enjoyed the momentary lapse in his sense of smell that accompanied each inhalation of smoke.
Selene, as it turned out, had awakened just before dusk. When she was hurt, she and Michael had been driving on the road, going too fast when the snow had begun to fall. They'd hit a patch of black ice, and had swerved off the road, hitting a tree. Michael had been the lucky one; his seat airbag had gone off the moment they hit. Selene, though, had not had her seat belt on, and her airbag hadn't deployed. As it was, she went flying through the windshield, barely missing the tree herself. When Michael had finally come to his senses, he stumbled out of the car, and half-crawled, half-walked his way to Selene. A massive shard of glass had speared her in her left shoulder, just inches from her heart; it was a miracle she was still alive.
Michael had picked her up, and carried her the eight miles from the main road to the cabin. It was, he had explained, the second time he had saved her after a car crash.
And now, he and Jean had agreed to take the two of them to L.A. He wasn't exactly happy about it, but he had agreed nonetheless. Jean had said she'd known he'd agree, though she didn't say why. It was surreal to realize someone else knew you better than yourself.
"Logan," Jean asked, stepping outside. "Are you almost ready?"
"Yeah," he replied, putting out his cigar. And that was when he heard it: carried by the wind, a soft, almost inaudible humming.
"Logan, what is that?" He wasn't quite sure, but it almost sounded like…. He turned to her to answer, and saw, to his surprise, her forehead was painted with a red dot, just below her hairline. Before he could warn her, her head rocked back with a sudden, vicious metallic clang. A strip of her scalp tore off from her forehead to the back of her skull, exposing eerily shiny bone. She collapsed heavily, unconscious, a stream of metallic liquid flowing from the wound.