Chapter 22

All eyes turned towards the screaming man. Chaffin's body was wracked with convulsions, and another pained scream escaped his lips as his spine bent at an unnatural angle. Fulmer stopped the work she was doing on Laraquente and rushed across the large rock to help the Private. She almost slipped on the rock's surface, which was now slick thanks to the rain that had been hammering them since the storm rolled in.

Chaffin's body continued to buck, and she saw him tear the IV from his arm. His fingers clawed at the rock, breaking fingernails and leaving bloody marks that were quickly washed away.

"Hey!" Fulmer said. "Chaffin!" He didn't respond. His colorless eyes were rolling around in their sockets as his teeth chattered against each other. He curled into a ball as another spasm ripped through him. She wasn't sure what was causing this, and for all intents and purposes it looked like he was suffering a full-on seizure. Fulmer winced as Chaffin's body arced backwards, slamming his spine and the back of his head against the rock. Unsure of what the hell was going on, she grabbed the front of his fatigue top to try and steady him. "Chaffin, talk to me!" She said.

His answer was a projected wash of thick, blood-laden vomit. The sticky, goo-like liquid painted the front of Fulmer's vest, fatigue top, and splashed her face and chin. She recoiled in surprised horror, looking down at what very well could have been Chaffin's liquefied innards. If that's what they were, then it hadn't been enough to kill him.

Another bout of convulsions wracked the young Marine, and he almost rolled off the side of the rock. Fulmer leaned forward and grabbed the shaking man's body, pulling him back to safety. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention, and she looked to see two figures walking towards them from the ship.

Walker was leaning against Liscomb, who'd taken the Lance Corporal's weapon and was supporting the younger man with an arm under his shoulder.

"What's happening?" Liscomb called out as they closed the distance.

"I don't know. Get down here and help me!" Fulmer yelled, unable to hide the panic in her voice. Chaffin's back arched again, and he let out another scream. The inhuman sound was piercing, and Fulmer winced as she tried to figure out what she could do to stabilize him.

"Fulmer…" A quiet, guttural voice said. She turned around with a start, and was surprised to see that Mercer had dragged himself over to her. The Sergeant's skin was gray, and his face looked as if it was made of wax.

"Jesus, Troy." Fulmer said, panic and confusion causing her to lose all sense of the Marines' customs and courtesies. Making sure to refer to Mercer by his rank was the last thing on her mind right now. "I don't know what's wrong with him. I don't-" She stopped when Chaffin puked again. His convulsions had stopped and he was on his back, which meant that most of the bloody goop was now in his mouth and throat. He spasmed once, letting out a wet, choked sound. "Shit!' Fulmer said. She grabbed ahold of Chaffin's top and pulled, rolling the Marine onto his side. The thick, reddish-black liquid that poured from his mouth looked as if it had the consistency of syrup. Unsure of how much was left, she stuck her index finger into Chaffin's mouth and did a finger sweep to clear out any excess puke blocking his airway.

His teeth clamped shut about three milliseconds after she'd pulled her finger out. Had she been any slower, the force of his teeth coming together would have likely taken her finger off. Mercer had grabbed ahold of Chaffin as well, though it looked like the Sergeant was holding on for dear life.

Fulmer watched in horror as she realized that blood was leaking from Chaffin's pores. More of the dark crimson liquid began to flow from his nose and tear ducts as the latest round of seizures threatened to send him, Fulmer, and Mercer tumbling over the edge of the rock.

"Liscomb!" Fulmer yelled, the fear clear in her voice.

"I'm coming!" Liscomb called back. He'd just helped Walked into a seated position, and was now hopping over supine Marines as he made his way towards the struggling medic.

What he saw next caused him to freeze in place.

Chaffin's eyes shot open and bulged in their sockets. His mouth opened in a silent scream, the only sounds being a wet, choking noise that no human should have made. Another wash of blood rushed forward, painting Mercer and Fulmer in more of the thick, black goo.

Then his neck expanded, the skin stretching obscenely. Mercer watched through blurred eyes as Chaffin's jaw widened more and more, until it seemed to be at an impossible angle. When Chaffin's jaw couldn't open any more, the mandible and maxilla split apart.

Fulmer screamed as Chaffin vomited something from deep within him. Whatever it was, it was big. Larger than anything that could have possibly fit in the man's stomach.

The sac, which looked like a grossly-oversized placenta, landed on the rock between Fulmer and Mercer. Rain washed blood and viscera away from pale white skin. Fulmer backpedaled on hands and feet, while Mercer stared at whatever it was that had just birthed from Chaffin.

Having been cleansed of its protective coating by the rain, the awakening process had been sped up. Long, slender limbs unfolded from an equally-thin body. Its elongated, eyeless skull scanned its surroundings, its sense of hearing overwhelmed by the pounding rain.

Mercer reached for his pistol.

Seeing the movement beside it, the creature let out a high-pitched shriek. Before anyone could react, it took off at a run. Despite being less than a minute old, the thing was impossibly fast. Small, clawed feet skittered over wet rock and flat human forms. It propelled itself forward and leaped off the rock, landing amongst the trees. As quickly as its violent birth had brought it into the world, it disappeared into the dense forest.

Those that were lucid enough to process what had just happened stared in horror at either Chaffin's ruined body, or in the general direction where the thing had disappeared to.

Liscomb stood rooted in place, his gaze flicking between Chaffin's still-twitching body and the forest. He wanted to ask what in the hell it was that he'd just seen. He wanted to scream. He wanted to puke.

He was too afraid to do anything.