The boats were lowered into the murky waters. Captain Webb and his squad of soldiers boarded the small wooden vessels, detaching from the main ship and setting off towards the mainland. As they sailed toward the shore, the men maintained a vigilant watch over the cityscape that unfolded before them. They could feel the looming uncertainty as they paddled across.
Something just didn't seem right about this place. Even from afar, it just looked dead.
It wasn't long before they navigated the boats to the edge of the land, and with a swift motion, Webb and his men disembarked onto the rocky ground. They had practiced this many times before. Missions that took place across the world saw their boats dock at various locations. But all in their days, none of these brave souls had ever expected for one to take them to a full-fledged city, especially one as prolific as Serpenmoor.
A chilling breeze stirred the air as their boots stepped onto the cobblestone roads. The squad had barely moved a few yards before they all stopped in their tracks. The city streets, once teeming with life, were filled with dozens upon dozens of bodies scattered along the blocks. Some had been burned to a crisp, the flames still burning atop their roasted flesh.
Webb kept a stoic expression, his composure masking the unease in his eyes. He had witnessed his fair share of dead bodies throughout his years of service. Some from his own doing, others by the forces of nature itself. But for this to be immediately encountered as soon as they reached the city, the fearless leader of this company could not escape the horrifying thoughts that were birthed in his mind.
This was just the tip of the iceberg, he thought. There had to be thousands more.
"Spread out, but stay close," Webb ordered, his voice elevated with a strong sense of command. The platoons fanned out, weapons at the ready, scanning the surrounding buildings for any sign of movement.
As they moved through the deserted streets, the feeling of being watched weighed on the men. Battling an unseen enemy in the forests was one thing. Those environments held their own dangers, but a hidden foe could reveal themselves the second they budged from their nest. Yet, in a sprawling city, there were an infinite number of places where someone could hide.
With so many buildings around them, the question wasn't if they were being watched, but where?
Webb's keen eyes surveyed their surroundings, searching for any clues that might lead them to the heart of this mystery. The clock tower was visible in the distance, its presence a reminder of their mission. The intel that he had received was not as in-depth as he had hoped. The few survivors that managed to sail off had told an array of fantastical stories. When they were turned over to the authorities upon discovery, there was concern that the men and women had simply gone mad.
The suicide of one of the individuals only added to that assumption, but men like Webb understood that there were things in this world beyond the standards of society. If Serpenmoor had gone silent, then there was weight to their claims. The squad pressed on, committed to the task at hand.
As they moved further down the desolate street, Captain Webb and Lieutenant Patterson found themselves walking together. The men of the squad continued to patrol along the sides, guns trained at the windows of the shops and apartments that bordered the narrow path. The only sounds that were heard as the men advanced were their boots against the ground and the whistle of the eerie wind that swam through them like an invisible serpent.
Patterson cast a glance at Webb, his eyes reflecting the troubled thoughts that sat in both their minds. "Captain, you still don't think this is anything like Samilat?"
Webb kept his gaze forward, studying the lifeless city. "Samilat was a natural disaster. We went in thinking that it was a crime of war. This feels like something else. I'm looking at the dead. Murdered folks. But there's no shell casings. No bullet holes on any of these walls. I almost feel like they just killed each other with their bare hands."
The lieutenant nodded, memories of Samilat playing in his mind. That was the day that changed them all forever. The screams, the gases, and the faces of those dead civilians. They used to think that people made the world a terrible place, but it seemed as though this planet enjoyed the act of killing as well. "I can't shake it off, Captain. Feels like we're still back there."
Webb gave a grim nod. "I don't think we ever left."
.
As they moved deeper into the city, the squad encountered more of the bloody aftermath. Toppled carriages and decomposed gallops lined the edges of the streets. Citizens of this once great city were reduced to degraded masses of rotten flesh. Some lied face down as the soldiers walked just feet away.
Patterson's curiosity got the better of him.
The lieutenant turned one of the deceased over with the barrel of his rifle. All he saw was a withered face that had been torn apart. He would have dismissed it as a gunshot wound, but as he peered closer, inside the decaying man's mouth were a set of insect legs that extended out from the corners of his tonsils and rested along the sides of his teeth.
"Captain…"
Webb only took a short glance before he reared his head back up.
"Stay sharp, boys," Webb called out to his men. "We don't know what we're dealing with here. Keep your eyes peeled and your wits about you."
The squad moved forward cautiously, navigating the graveyard that Serpenmoor had become. The clock tower drew closer in their sights over the next few hours, but they were still far from reaching it. With the prospect of an entire city in harm, the military had deployed a battalion's worth of servicemen to scout out the place. Webb and his company were the tip of the spear, the first to cross uncertain territory with what little knowledge they had.
The feeling of being watched persisted, and the captain couldn't shake the sense that unseen eyes followed their every move. He studied each window that he saw, imaging that there was someone with a rifle pointed in his direction. He and his team were sitting ducks in the center of this shrinking road. Getting funneled together would be the perfect way to get killed. They would already be lined up, just in time for an automatic weapon to begin devouring its belt of ammunition.
It left him with an uneasy feeling that they were walking right into a trap. As Captain Webb and his squad cautiously advanced through the silent streets, the commander picked up on a sudden movement. In one of the nearby buildings, a dark shape shifted across the background, disappearing into the shadows within. He stopped for a second to assess what he thought he had seen, only to watch as the silhouette moved around again.
Webb signaled to two of his men, pointing towards the building. "Blake, Reynolds, check it out. Find out what's moving in there," he ordered, his voice firm but tinged with an underlying tension. If there was a survivor holed up inside, then they could gather whatever further information they needed to better understand what had transpired here.
However, that was only based on the assumption that what they had seen was on their side. If whoever was holed up inside the small barber shop was a threat, he would not allow his men to walk past them.
Blake, a seasoned soldier who had been in service for several years, nodded, gripping his rifle tighter. Reynolds, a younger recruit, followed suit, his eyes darting between the captain and the mysterious building.
"Oi!" Blake called out to his subordinate. "I'm taking point. You're at my back. Let's go."
"Yes, lance corporal," Reynolds replied to his team leader.
The two men approached the entrance, their guns raised. As soon as they were at the front, Blake had the private hold steady on the windows as he tested the entrance. The door knob slowly twisted without resistance.
"You take this door and open it," Blake ordered, which Reynolds obeyed without question. As soon as the barrier was opened, the senior soldier stepped forward and disappeared past the doorway. Reynolds was quick to follow. Seconds went by as the rest of the squad waited in tense silence, listening to the sounds of the two men as they moved about the room. Webb's eyes remained fixed on the building, a gnawing feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.
He heard Lance Corporal Blake ordering whoever was inside to present themselves. The young man had to repeat the command over and over, which showed whoever was inside was not listening to him.
Time seemed to stretch on as the men inside remained out of sight. Webb's patience deteriorated, and he finally barked, "Hanson, go check on them. Make it quick." There had not been a single gunshot heard. No indication of a scuffle. But if the pair had stumbled across something that required greater investigation, having one leave to report to command would jeopardize the safety of the other.
As much as he hated to do so, Webb needed one more body to make entry.
Sergeant Hanson, a burly and disciplined soldier, nodded and stepped forward, disappearing into the same building that swallowed Blake and Reynolds. The others waited, glancing at each other with a mixture of concern and anticipation.
"Keep your rifles pointed outward," Webb ordered. "Focus on every avenue of approach that you can see." With that, the soldiers around him turned their attention back to their surroundings, pulling a three-hundred-sixty-degree field of security in case of an ambush.
Minutes passed, and the silence was only broken by the distant sounds of the wind rustling through the abandoned streets and the occasional creaking of an old sign swaying in the breeze. Webb's jaw clenched as the worry gnawed at him. Something was not right. Hanson should have returned by now.
He considered calling another man inside, but he had already sent too many. Webb's gaze remained fixed on the building, desperation rising in his soul as he wondered just where his men were. The small building to their left no longer made any noise. It was as if everything inside had fallen into a dead silence.
"Captain?" Lieutenant Patterson asked as he approached his superior. "They're not coming out."
"I know…" He tucked the stock of his rifle into his shoulder, unwilling to just stand by. He had lost several men over his command across the last decade when it came down to orders like this. It was the nature of the job. Somebody always had to go in, and as much as he wanted to be that person every time, he knew that the rest of the company depended on his guidance—Patterson and the rest of his closest circle, especially.
But too many old wounds were now beginning to reopen. He could not go through this again. "Take command of these men," Webb said to Patterson as he advanced closer toward the doorway. "If I am not back within one minute, level the entire fucking building."
Patterson didn't say a word. He understood the way Webb was. The man recognized danger when he saw it. He would not let any other men go into that building until he came out.
Captain Webb entered the establishment as soon as he turned his back to his lieutenant. Once the door came open, his rifle was already pointed at the front. He crossed the threshold with the end of the barrel, tracing the same path as his eyes, directed at each corner.
If someone was waiting for him inside, then they would have already heard his entrance. "Sergeant Hanson! Lance Corporal Blake! Rally on me!"
Silence.
His finger graced the side of the trigger as it drifted about. He didn't want this to turn into a gunfight, but the absence of his men's response engulfed his mind with the worst scenarios. He had been through this before: entering a small building, only to come face-to-face with a man who wanted him dead. Every entry was a gamble on his life, and he always went all in.
Each time, Webb took home the prize, but he could never shake the feeling that one day, the house would win.
The deeper the man ventured, the more the atmosphere shifted. A foul stench began to fill the air, causing the captain to instinctively tighten the grip on his rifle. He scanned the room, finding no bodies, no bloodstains—nothing to account for the mysterious movement they had witnessed.
He whispered through his teeth, "Where the fuck are you?"
Rounding the corner of the door that separated the barbershop lobby from the rest of the tall building, Webb spotted a set of stairs leading upward. The surrounding area was clear of visible threats, but that did nothing to quell the sense of danger this dim place offered. With each step, the wooden boards creaked under his feet. Webb kept his rifle pointed at the door ahead, ready to lay down a hail of gunfire at a moment's notice.
He only had so much time to do so, otherwise, the rest of the squad would take up the mantle for him. They obeyed his orders without question. He had instilled in their heads that hesitancy breeds death. He had less than a minute before they would turn and shoot at the place.
Upon reaching the top of the staircase, he approached the door, taking a valuable second to listen in on what was behind the barrier. There, to his surprise, he could hear several people moving about. It had to be his men, he thought. The captain turned the handle and swiftly yanked the door open.
As he did, a cloud of dust erupted, billowing toward him like a dragon's breath of flame.
He barely had time to react. Stumbling backward, Webb fought to avoid the pungent plume of shadows. He missed a step and tumbled down the stairs, falling against his side as the sound of his rifle striking the banister rattled in his ears. He was only about halfway down before his momentum dwindled. Disoriented from the drop, the man tried to regather his focus as quickly as possible.
As soon as his vision sharpened, he witnessed the head of a familiar figure peeking out at him over the edge of the doorframe. It was Reynolds. His face was covered in dust, and blood streaked down from his nose. Groups of maggots were seen clinging to the corners of his mouth. With a low groan, the young man gazed down at his commander.
"Private Reynolds?" Webb called out to him, but to no avail. The soldier would not answer. Shambling out further into view, the captain could see even more dust along the edges of his uniform. The walls and ceiling appeared to have been caked with it.
Reynolds service weapon dangled from its sling across the right side of his body, the front of the rifle banging against the doorframe as he stepped closer to the front of the stairs. From behind him, Sergeant Hanson appeared over his shoulder. Webb could only see his head from the angle at which he stood, but what he saw was more than enough to cement the idea that he had just walked straight into a den of terrors.
Both of Hanson's eyes appeared to be sunken in, pressed back by the bundles of maggots that swarmed around his eyelids. With each passing breath, the man's smile grew, echoing a crazed chuckle as his lungs emptied. Blood poured out from under the maggots and down his cheeks, which twisted the image of the once-proud sergeant into that of a horrific monster.
"Reynolds! Hanson!" Webb shouted. "Stop right where you are!"
Neither listened.
"I said stop!"
He watched as more trails of dust flowed out from the room like a sentient mist, just as Lance Corporal Blake stepped out. His face was just like Hanson's, riddled with the sudden onset of larvae of unknown origin. Each of the men held a stare equally as blank as it was hungry. They had become shells of their former selves, seemingly led to their doom without even knowing it.
Webb took note of how the dust was on all of them. Ever since his company had infiltrated the city, the presence of the substance stood out more than it should have. It did not seem to be the product of several months of no upkeep. It was almost as if it were alive, just waiting for someone else to make contact with it.
"What has happened to you lot?" Webb pointed his rifle at the men, fearing that he was going to have to do something unimaginable. Reynolds led the group, stepping down as he tilted his head with a crazed look in his glazed eyes. The private's mouth slowly opened, releasing droplets of worms as he stomped on each step below him.
"Did she get my letter?" Reynolds said out loud. "Good boys kill."
"What?" Webb stepped back some more, placing the sights of his weapon at Reynold's chest. The young man made no sense, but the way he glared at the captain gave off the look of a ravenous predator. It did not seem like there was going to be a way to turn this around.
But as much as his instincts propelled him to do so, he just couldn't find it in him to gun down these men.
"Damn it!" Webb grimaced as he turned around and made a break for the exit. However, as soon as he did, another man suddenly stepped out into view, attacking the commander. In the chaos of the fight, the captain only briefly caught a glimpse of the person who had attacked him. Clad in a bloodied, grey dress shirt, the foul-smelling assailant clawed at his face.
He could see the maggots that swarmed across his features. In all his years of living, the hardened warfighter had never seen something as horrible as this. What once was a human had now turned into something so wretched, condemned to a life of living rot. Surely, it was the same fate that had just befallen three of his soldiers.
It left Webb with no other choice.
Being as strong as he was, the commander shoved the vicious man back with ease. The maggot-faced terror collided with the wall nearby, just as Webb stepped over him and directed his rifle down at his target's chest. With the pull of a trigger, the machine gun discharged a burst of lead that ventilated the infected's torso.
The pressure emitted from the muzzle blasted the man's tattered shirt like a sonic boom, causing ripples on its surface as the bullets penetrated his body. The loud roar of the expended cartridges deafened the room, casting an ongoing ringing in the captain's ears that he was very familiar with. As the brass pinged on the floor, Webb watched as the person underneath him went limp, trails of blood steadily draining out of his chest.
By the time he turned around, the three infected soldiers at the stairs had already descended to the bottom floor. Instinct drove his body, defaulting to the motions of years of training. He shouldered his rifle without a second thought, seeing these boys as only fragments of their former selves. The trio gazed at him with a bloodthirsty hunger, and it was a hunger that had to be extinguished.
Webb pulled the trigger again, decimating the group as they immediately fell straight down under a hail of projectiles. By the time his finger had let off, a large amount of dust had been kicked up from the pile of bodies. He withheld his breath at the sight of it, knowing well that the spores had to have been the culprits for this unholy transformation.
He wanted to leave some parting words to allow their souls to sail off with some sort of redemption, but he would say nothing. Those demons would reside inside him forever. As he made his way out of the building, all he could think about besides the urgency of the situation was the three men he had willingly just sent to their deaths.
Being the one to eventually kill them himself was nothing more than a personification of the years of grief that propelled his drinking. He never wanted to have to be the one to make these calls, but he knew the heartache that they commanded. So, in turn, he took hold of that command, sparing the men he loved a guilt that nobody should ever have to carry.
As soon as he charged through the front door, Patterson was already on him. "Captain! What is happening in there?"
"Patterson," Webb began, still trying to catch his breath, "I found them. They were, like... like creatures. Maggots everywhere. There was another person inside, worse off than they were. I had to kill the whole lot."
Patterson, in total disbelief, pulled his commander to the side, whispering into his ear, "Captain, you killed them?"
"You didn't see them, Patterson," he replied, confident in his words, but his voice still laced with grief. "I tried to get them to listen to me, but their minds were gone. It's beyond anything I've seen."
The lieutenant trusted his commander with his life. He knew that Webb would always make the best judgment he possibly could, but the confession of what had transpired inside those walls rattled his consciousness. Webb just wouldn't gun down someone for no reason, let alone any member of their force.
"Something's not right here," Patterson remarked. "Those men would not have stayed in there if they were in danger."
Webb, eyes wide with focus, pointed back to the door that he had just crossed. "Dust, Patterson. There was this dust everywhere. It was all over the room that I found our boys in. They were covered in the shit."
As the two officers tried to make sense of the inexplicable, a frantic shout interrupted their conversation. Another member of the squad, panic evident in his tone, reported sightings of movement inside the nearby buildings. As soon as his voice trailed off, another one of the soldiers echoed the same call, referencing a separate dwelling on the opposite end.
Webb's eyes narrowed, his fears kicking in. "Hold your positions. No one enters those buildings. We don't know what we're dealing with."
The squad exchanged wary glances as the tone of their commander painted a picture of something grim. They began to look all around, seeing just how many windows circled them. Their minds then started to play games with them. The slightest shifts in light mirrored the shapes of people moving about inside the rooms, forcing the squad to decipher if they were real or not.
Webb's mind raced, grappling with the unsettling reality that the city held secrets far more sinister than they could fathom. The clock tower stood tall beyond their immediate surroundings as he and Patterson tried to conjure up a battle plan. They were too deep within the city by now to turn back.
"Patterson," Webb muttered, his gaze fixed on the darkened windows. "We need to understand what we're up against before making any reckless moves."
The lieutenant nodded in agreement, though he could not think of a reason for why this was happening. He had spent his younger years reading up on the strangest anomalies of the modern world. Nature had a way of disrupting the seemingly impenetrable accomplishments of man. Could what had overtaken this city be some sort of disease that medicine had yet to discover?
Serpenmoor was known across the globe for its unorthodox views of justice and society. One could stand to reason that its advances in the fields of healthcare had not kept up with the rest of the world. But despite the views of its leadership, the city was still better off than most of the desolate regions of this planet. Places like those were still in the darker ages of man, so if a disease as destructive as this had existed, then why did it exist here?
Webb gazed at the clock tower with Patterson, watching as tiny clouds of dust evaporated from its roof, almost burning up as they touched the air. "If that is the epicenter of whatever happened here, I don't want to risk sending any of our men into it."
He then turned his head up at the Sheer Orbs, sharing the same expression of confusion as his lieutenant. "How long have we been on the mainland?"
"Only three hours," Patterson replied, squinting his eyes at the glowing stars.
"It was morning when we arrived," Webb stated, trying to think back to where the Orbs had been positioned prior to his entry into the barbershop. "They shouldn't be in the middle of the sky by now. At least another eight hours, I'd imagine."
"I didn't see anything change while you were gone."
"Neither did I…"
Before they could discuss the matter any further, a sudden gunshot shattered the silence, drawing their attention to a frightened soldier.
With eyes as round as the Sheer Orbs themselves, the soldier stammered, "I saw her! A deformed woman, smiling at me through that window!" His hands trembled, clutching the rifle, as he desperately tried to convey the horror he had witnessed. A thin trail of smoke dissipated from the end of the weapon's muzzle, while the shards of glass fell from the edge of the brick building.
Following his gaze to the shattered window, Webb and Patterson were met with a chilling sight. A cloud of dust billowed out, the same kind as the ones that the captain had encountered just before. The soldier did not know to avoid the plume, and he found himself quickly caught within its reach. As soon as his lungs pulled in air, the spores inside went straight to work. The young men stumbled back and hunched over, gasping for breath.
His brothers nearby rose to their feet to run over to him and go render aid, but Webb immediately ordered them to back off. "Do not go near him!"
"But, Captain!" one of the soldiers contested, unwilling to watch as his friend suffered. However, that defiant mindset lasted only for a few seconds before he watched the affected serviceman collapse to the ground and begin to growl like a wild animal.
The transformation was a grotesque display of madness. Convulsions wreaked havoc on the soldier's body, with veins bulging beneath his skin and blood streaming from his nostrils. In the back of his throat, a writhing mass of maggots manifested, spewing down the sides of his cheeks as he pulled a wide grin across his mouth. The soldier's eyes, once filled with fear, were now void of the humanity that had been stolen from him.
The others backed away as it happened, realizing that they were not too far away from harm themselves. Captain Webb directed his rifle at the window the man had shot at, seeing more clouds beginning to seep out into the street. "Get away from there, now! Get away from the dust!"
The men scrambled to clear the area, aware that no matter how far they moved, they were always close to another set of windows. Fear caused them to bottleneck in the middle of the street, hoping to equalize the gaps between everything around them. Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the private who had inhaled the toxic clouds erupted into flame.
Patterson drew his service pistol as soon as the glow caught the corner of his eye. "Captain!"
Webb could not believe what was happening. How in the world could such a thing have been possible? In the span of a second, he tasked himself with both dealing with the tragic fate of this poor young man and trying to figure out why the fire had commenced. That was when he caught sight of more of the dust sparking at the touch of the Sheer Orb's rays, and then he knew that there had to be a correlation.
The theory in his head then gave way to the present as a sharp scream from the dying soldier grabbed his attention.
"Forgive me." Webb knew he couldn't let the boy endure further agony. In an act of mercy, he raised his rifle and aimed at his torso. A single gunshot echoed through the street as he ended his life. The flames would still rise, but the screams stopped. It left everyone speechless in the aftermath, but the commander knew that now was not the time to stay frozen.
He understood the mission, but with the sudden deaths of four of his men in such a short period, all by his hand, there was no compromise. They were in the thick of something that none of them were ready for. An entire battalion of soldiers was on their way at this very moment. That meant that up to a thousand unprepared souls would soon make contact with the very same substance that had transformed those men.
With the corpse of the soldier still in flames, Captain Webb had made his decision. "We're turning back! Everyone on your feet! Stay the fuck away from those windows!"
"Yes sir!" They shouted in unison. Patterson was already behind him as he turned his back to the clock tower.
"Captain!"
Webb looked back at him with dread. "Stop calling me Captain, Patterson." He cast away the rank of titles, believing in his heart that a true leader took care of their troops. To do so required the reminder that they were still human, as was he.
"William," he addressed him by his name instead. "We're turning back?"
The broad-shouldered gentleman stopped walking, only to gesture at the corpse of the dead soldier nearby. "Command either doesn't know shit about what happened here, or they got their heads way too far up their arses to care. Doesn't matter to me. I've already gotten enough of my men killed today. I'm taking them home."
The lieutenant caught up with him as he resumed his walk. Patterson withdrew his beret to wipe his forehead, breathing a sigh of confusion as he craned his neck to take one final look at the smoldering corpse. "I trust your judgment, William. It's just that... what are we dealing with here?"
Patterson reminded himself of just how much Samilat had changed Webb. The commander understood the cost of war. He'd do everything that he could to bring his men back alive, but he'd never stop them from fighting to the death to destroy the enemy. To do so would only endanger the lives of their loved ones back on familiar shores. That was something worth fighting for. Something worth dying over.
But this? This wasn't a war. Neither was Samilat. That place was just a piece of an uncharted world. The high brass at the capital would never find themselves there. All they cared about was winning wars. When they sent that battalion to a natural disaster site, those men had not a single clue what awaited them. The citizens that perished there did so in the most torturous ways possible.
Patterson was certain that Webb still heard the ground quaking in the back of his head to this very day. The gases that arose from the cracks nearly swallowed up an entire fireteam, but while they had escaped, the men had found themselves exposed to the ferocious toxins organic to the clouds. Webb was the highest-ranking man that visited them in the hospital as their bodies slowly melted over the course of a week.
When they died, he cursed himself for bringing them there. Then he cursed the admirals who oversaw the mission. The council that approved the measure in the first place. They were the ones who had denied those boys a meaningful sacrifice. They died for nothing, all because the higher-ups did not give a damn to learn more about the situation.
He was done.
"I don't know," Webb replied. "Neither does command. When we get back on that ship, I'm going to radio in for the rest of the captains to divert their vessels. Until then, have every platoon leader gather their troops and consolidate on us. We're not going to –"
He ceased his words as soon as his eyes landed on the upper windows of the buildings around them. Pressed against the glass were the vile, maggot-infested faces of multiple people affected by the dust. Their gaze followed the troops with a sinister intent, watching them as they moved and grinning once Webb ordered them to a halt.
"Captain?" Deacon ran over to his commander, rifle in hand. "What do you see?" The sniper's perplexed face only morphed into shock as he peered over the man's shoulder and noticed the silhouettes moving about in the windows beside him. He directed Webb to move out of the way, only to catch sight of even more faces in the glass in the nearby dwellings.
Patterson quickly caught on, seeing the hungry stares that the grotesque folk gave them. He raised his pistol toward them, but the captain ordered that he abstain from firing.
"Wait! You'll unleash more of that dust!"
"Then what do we do?" Patterson begged to know.
That was when the unthinkable happened.
To their horror, the first of the three Sheer Orbs began to move. None of the soldiers had to point it out. The immediate shift in the angle of the daylight signaled the progress of change. The star moved at a slow speed, gradually being pulled down below the cityscape, betraying the very laws of nature. Gasps burst through the lips of the squad members, their eyes fixed on the celestial horror.
Webb, usually prepared in the face of adversity, felt a great chill coursing through his veins. This was no ordinary event, it was an alteration of reality itself. He had no clue what was happening, but whatever it was, he knew that it heralded a disastrous conclusion.
As the second orb steadily succumbed to the invisible force, a collective shock gripped the squad. The light of the bright sky was now beginning to fade to a purplish hue, bringing forth the impending onset of night. Darkness had a nasty habit of concealing all forms of danger. Webb and his men understood the concept of that well, having faced many chaotic battles under the moon.
However, never before had they been completely surrounded in a way such as they were now. It seemed as though the entire city was looking to kill them. No. It did want to kill them.
The third orb, the last holder of the sky's glow, was violently drawn down. It was as if a sharp knife had traveled across the throat of the bright heavens, ending its life in one swift dance of death. In a blink, the purple tint of the clouds was painted into shadows. The crests of the thousands of buildings around them had turned into a sharp black fixture that stood against the vaguely visible skyline.
The only exception to the total darkness that had swept over Serpenmoor was the Onolask Clock Tower, whose face was still brightly lit with power.
The tallest structure in the city loomed ominously in the middle of the urban nightmare. Webb's gaze was transfixed upon the tower, his mind grappling with the impossible turn of events that had just transpired. He heard his heart beating from under his ears as he slowly turned his eyes and scanned across the terrified expressions of the men around him.
They had never seen anything like this before. None of them were prepared for what was to happen.
As soon as nightfall overtook the city, a massive explosion of shadows erupted from the top of the clock tower. In a serpentine weave, the cloud twirled in the air as it circled around the tip of the tower's gothic spire. Webb was certain that he could almost hear a woman's melodic hums in the abyss of the unimaginable. This plume was not the product of a fiery blast. It moved with a purpose and a plan. When the elongated trail suddenly turned toward their direction from afar, he knew that it was heading right for them.
"Run!" Webb screamed. "Back to the ship!"
As soon as they all began to push forward, the windows of the buildings around them shattered. Within seconds, hordes of infected people rushed out onto the streets, their maggot-coated mouths wide open. The immediate response of automatic gunfire lit up the narrow cobblestone path as the troops engaged the threats.
Webb did not hesitate to aim his weapon at the first plagued people that he set his eyes on. Aided by the muzzle flashes of his nearby comrades to combat the darkness, he pulled the steel trigger on his rifle and let a surge of bullets rip through the air. Some of the transformed people in front of him stumbled over or fell completely to the line of lead that had been sent their way.
Amidst the disorder of the battle, he spun around to check on Patterson and the rest of the team. The lieutenant had already expended a full magazine from his single-stack handgun and quickly shifted to his shortened rifle to help repel the onslaught of madness. As the man squeezed out a dozen rounds of intermediate-caliber bullets, Webb waited until the volley had been cut to shout his next order.
"Patterson! We can't stay here! Run to the ship!" Webb screamed, knowing that if they did not push forward, they would not make it far at all. At the rate the soldiers were firing, their guns would soon run dry completely. There were not enough spare magazines within the company to hold off an army like this. More and more of the infected populace were beginning to climb out of the buildings further away, intent on closing in as soon as they could.
Patterson acted on his orders without hesitation. "Break positions!" He pointed in the direction of the vessel, which was still far off the shore. "Retreat!"
"Semi-auto!" Webb yelled, fighting to get his voice across past the deafening screams of the weapons. "Switch to semi-auto!"
Patterson echoed his command, "Switch to semi-auto, lads! No automatic!"
The chains of bullets died down to a beat of singular pops, each one aiming for precision as the masses continued to converge on the man. Webb and his squad sprinted down the street as quickly as they could, desperate to escape this forsaken place. The captain only stopped in his tracks once the screams of his boys caught his ears. He turned around, witnessing the massacre that was just getting started.
Several of the infected had bolted out of an opened doorway and lunged at one of the servicemen, overpowering him as his weapon kicked off. Under the immense stress of being attacked, he didn't realize where his gun was aimed at. The horde spun him around as they relentlessly clawed at his face, sheering his skin in the process. The rifle fired several rounds as he was taken to the ground, managing to kill one of his assailants while also striking another one of the soldiers.
Webb watched as the second man collapsed, a piece of his breast pocket pinching off before his body dropped. He knew the young man had been struck in the ribs. In the midst of an event like this, there would be no helping him. Still, the captain turned his gun ahead and fired at two more of the horrendous creations that ran for the wounded man.
The side of one of the creature's heads erupted in a mist of pink before it tumbled over onto the cobblestone, but the second one was not stirred by the death of its companion. Another person, coated in maggots, emerged from a window nearby. Then third. A fourth.
"Damn it!" Webb had no other option.
The wounded soldier was still rolling around in agony, blood pouring out of a bullet hole that he could not remedy. Just as an infected woman grabbed him by the shoulders and rolled him over, the boy's face imploded when a final round sailed through the air, unleashing a burst of crimson from his shattered front.
The woman merely sank her teeth into the side of his sanguine cheek, eager to consume his flesh. She did not care if he was alive or dead.
Patterson reloaded his rifle, pulling his commander away from the regret. "Move!"
Webb hadn't even noticed another horde that barreled along from the corner of the intersection behind them. Several of the troops turned around once they saw what was coming. Stress took hold of the wheel, and they switched their weapons back to fully automatic. The blasts of the weapons echoed throughout the streets as more of the creatures were torn apart, but the defense only lasted for so long.
The rifle's magazines were quickly exhausted. As more infected people appeared, drawn by the loud noises of conflict, neither of the boys had ample time to continue the fight. The precious few seconds that it would take to insert a fresh magazine and charge the bolts of their guns allowed the monsters to close in. As soon as the first man in the group was knocked over, the rest staggered.
They tried to strike the maggot-faced people with the stocks of their rifles, but more poured into the fray. Those men, who had braved many battles beforehand, were helpless against the overwhelming masses that viciously began to pull their bodies apart.
Webb pointed his rifle down at their path, ready to enact the same form of mercy that he had shown before, but Patterson pulled him away.
"We need to run!" The lieutenant ended his screams with more gunshots, hammering two more of the creatures that ran toward the pair.
Webb had no choice. This battle was already lost. He turned around and bolted down the street with what remained of his squad, listening sorrowfully as the ones behind him were slaughtered. Their cries clung to the inside of his ears the entire way, but there was nothing that he could do.
They only made it down to the next intersection before the cloud of dust touched upon the ground. Webb quickly reloaded his rifle as the plume of shadows dispersed before them. "Get away from the dust!" he ordered his men. As they retreated and engaged the infected that chased after them from behind, the captain, searching for the next avenue of escape, glimpsed the form of a pale woman emerging from the fading spores.
Her skin shined in the night, but the cloak draped over her body concealed most of her features, save for her stomach and cleavage, as well as the lower half of her face. Her black lips twisted into a sadistic grin as she faced the troops, her raspy voice breathing a series of giggles.
Webb knew in his heart that she was a threat, most likely even fiercer than everything that they had faced so far. He did not hesitate to open up on her, firing his rifle as quickly as he could. The bullets merely passed through her body as she tilted her head. As solid as she appeared, it seemed as though the witch's body was nothing but vapor.
This should have killed her, he thought. Why? Why wouldn't she die?
"Patterson!" He called for his lieutenant's attention. The man was already looking at the shadow woman by the time she stepped forward, her sharp, black talons visible under the wide sleeves of her gown. The pair fired some more bullets at her, but they failed to do a single thing.
That was when the witch, undeterred by the gunfire, defied gravity, ascending into the air. Transforming into a swirling cloud of dust, she descended into the heart of the squad, landing amidst the nine remaining soldiers. As soon as her body reformed, the predator lunged at the first man she saw. Her claws swiped across his face, tearing his jaw off at the side and sending him down in a massive pool of blood.
She leapt on top of the mortally wounded soldier like a wild animal. The man's hysteric gurgles quickly died out as she relentlessly battered his face with her powerful hands, reducing it to a mashed pulp. The woman gleefully inhaled the rich scent of fresh blood, leaning back with her chin pointed to the sky, intoxicated with the sweet aroma of death.
The rest of the group continued to open fire on her, only for two more of the men to be caught in the crossfire when the bullets easily passed through the demon. The gunfire peppered their pelvises and legs, crippling them beyond all measure. Seeing the lads fall to the ground screaming, the wicked woman smiled as she anticipated the next meal that she would be able to dine on. However, the roar of the cartridges filled her ears, reminding her that there were still more people left to be set free.
She turned her focus to the next soldier within her path, spinning around as she lurched forward. Her talons came down upon him and smashed into his weapon, slicing through the metal of the receiver partly and disabling it in the process. The man released his hold on his gun and tried to run away, but the shadow woman only followed him through the air as she caught up with him.
Her nails penetrated his back before he could gain any further distance. As soon as his face struck the cobblestone, she wrenched her claws out of him and rotated his bloodied body over. Webb watched in horror as he let out one final scream, right before the woman's raspy voice bellowed into an inhuman roar. She battered his throat with her blade-like appendages, blasting through every muscle and tissue in their way. Scores of crimson burst forth from the valley she carved, only for his head to roll to the side and dismount from the rest of his body.
She dove face-first into the stump of his neck, gnawing on the gushes of life that drained from the openings. Her left hand dragged across the dead soldier's stomach, passing through his abdomen and withdrawing a string of intestines from its confines. As her stained mouth lifted from the blood fountain, the witch turned to the guts in her grasp and began to chew on them.
A single bullet tore through the side of her head as she dined on the remains, prompting the woman to turn and glance in the direction of the man who had disrupted her supper. Deacon, racking the bolt of his scoped rifle, stumbled back as Webb and Patterson began to point their own guns at her again.
With a smile, she began to giggle as she watched them assemble. Her black lips parted, flashing the edges of her white teeth. Trails of dust rose from the corners of her mouth while her stare fixated on the sniper.
Webb shouted for the other two line soldiers to fall back behind the officers, while Patterson and Deacon began to shoot at her again. She dropped the entrails in her hand and exploded into a large cloud, which then concentrated into a long trail and hurtled towards the group.
"Look out!" Webb screamed as he and Patterson ducked out of the way, only to watch as she reformed once more. By the time her feet were on the ground, the sinister woman was within close range of Deacon, and the captain could only watch as her claws swiped at his left leg.
The sniper's kneecap blew off as soon as her talons struck it. He fell onto his side, screaming in anguish, yet defiantly still attempting to get one last shot off in the hopes that it would finally do her in. However, she would instead deprive him of any further chance to make his own decisions. Rearing her shoulders back, the pale beast's mouth opened from under the hood of her cloak as she fired a torrent of dust out of it like a dragon's flame.
Deacon was immediately engulfed by the infectious blaze and sent into a withering mess of convulsions and groans as the hordes of maggots took over his body. Webb and Patterson ordered the rest of the men to stop engaging her and run, as she was seemingly invulnerable to any form of conventional weapon.
She turned to the captain as soon as she finished, the edge of her hood pulled back just enough to reveal the sinister gleam in those blackened eyes of hers, the white circle of her irises hot upon him. As the men turned around and ran for their lives, she rose to her feet and cupped her bloodied claws in front of her face, giggling profusely as her head bobbed up and down.
Vikcia had been waiting so long for the opportunity to feast again, and today, her wish would be granted.
NOTES:
And so the end begins! I hope you all enjoyed this latest installment!
It was a change-up from normal, being comprised of completely original characters. I wanted to advance the lore of this world a little more, but if you miss Bela and Kyia, do not fret, as they will be the main focus of the next chapter, which comes out tomorrow!
But as for Webb, I wanted to give his character some greater depth. He isn't the star of the show, but I think you'll like him for what it is worth.
I'll keep these notes brief, but I hope you all are doing well! Thanks for all the love that you have shown, and I wish you all a wonderful weekend! Stay safe out there and healthy! I can't wait to see you all again very soon! 😊