Anthony DeCosmo - Disintegration

A woman's voice commanded, "Wake up you murdering son of a bitch."

His senses rebooted, one at a time.

Behind the voice, he heard a strange, unsettling sound; a noise like breathing, or perhaps a vibration from some arcane machine. The air felt warm and moist, but also carried a heavy, rotting feeling as if the air itself had spoiled.

Images-memories-assembled like puzzle pieces fitting into place.

The mountain top…the thing in the sky…

Panic slammed his gut.

"Nina! Nina, are you okay?"

Her voice snarled, "I’m fine now that you’re going to pay for what you did."

A binding of some kind-wet rope? — restrained his arms and legs as he lay on a hard table. The area around him, beyond the rim of light cast from above, hid in darkness but he sensed a wide-open chamber.

A shiver shot through his body and he realized he wore no clothes. Interestingly, he still felt the slight weight of the key around his neck, yet he could not see it. Perhaps only his eyes could see that key, if it really existed at all.

Nina stepped into the light and glared at him with contempt.

"You killed Scott. I remember now."

His confusion and the horrid surroundings stayed any feelings of bashfulness. He lay naked, strapped to a table in front of her, but that seemed so very unimportant.

"Nina, what are you talking about? Where are we?"

"I brought you to The Order; your greatest enemy. They will do worse than kill you."

Her rage emanated so powerfully that Trevor immediately saw it as forced. Even in his groggy state of mind, he knew he had never met-let alone killed-Scott.

"What do you remember, Nina?"

"I remember you killing him. I found my memories. I saw you kill my lover."

"Your…lover?"

She spoke in short shots, as if reading bullet points from a script: "Yes, we were going to be married. We were in love. You killed him. I must have revenge."

Trevor pleaded, "Nina, this isn't you. They are controlling you, somehow. If I had killed Scott, you would have killed-not kidnapped-me. You aren't friends with these aliens! They are manipulating you. They gave you this idea so you'd give me to them. It must be an implant!"

"Shut up! You murdering bastard!"

Another voice interrupted from the darkness: "That’s enough for now, my child."

She hesitated, her brow furled, and then Nina reluctantly withdrew. A figure materialized and approached Trevor Stone.

He wore an ornate robe and slowly glided next to Trevor’s bound form. He may have been in his fifties but this man had changed from human to something different.

The skin on his face flaked, as if decaying but not dying. Scaly patches of green covered his throat. Emerald pupils with dark pulsating red veins sat where human eyes once lived. His clothing, a gold and red robe, gently writhed as if a mass squirmed beneath.

"Who are you?"

"I am a servant of the living God, Voggoth. A Bishop in his forces of righteousness."

Trevor tried to act brave, but fear tingled in his limbs and he trembled against the restraints. This was an evil place: the sound of the walls…as if they were alive; this horrid, warped man, the fact that Nina had trapped him here.

He wanted to scream I never wanted this! I didn't ask to be a leader!

Instead, his voice quivered, "A-Are you going to stick one of those things in me?"

"If only I could reward you by making you one with Voggoth. Alas, my son, your role in perpetuating the greatness of the one true God will take you on a much darker path. You will become a servant of my Lord in many different ways but you will not be one with Him. We have something different planned for you. Something painful. Very painful."

A mass moved on the ceiling; the light there flickered. Something big. Something spindly…insect-like.

"Wh-what are you going to do?"

He tried to find the courage to be a shining example of humanity in the face of this devil but he could not, especially as he caught a glimpse of what moved up there. It resembled a gigantic Black Widow spider: much bigger than a man. It dangled from the ceiling with its legs working feverishly on something.

Preparing.

"If we were to make you one with Voggoth and return you to your friends, they would discover your new found righteousness. We could give you one of the new sleeper implants, such as we gave your friend. It lay dormant for a long time, no larger than a freckle on her back, until the activation signal brought it to life but the purpose of the sleeper implant was much different then the goals we have set for you."

"Goals?"

The spider-thing blocked the main light as it hung from the ceiling, reaching out with its thin appendages toward the victim’s naked body.

A fright-filled groan slipped from his lips.

"You have already gained quite a following. Rumors of your fight to save your people have spread far. There are those who suggest your ability to adapt to your new role is evidence of mankind's strength. Now we shall dispel such notions while at the same time serving Voggoth's interests on this world."

Trevor struggled in vain against his bindings as the spider-thing dangled closer.

A thick attachment-an umbilical cord-stretched away from the creature’s abdomen to the ceiling, suggesting it was part of the room, not an independent entity.

A thin tube extended from the monster toward Trevor's face.

"There is some debate within The Order as to the greater weakness of your kind: is it your attachments and emotions, or is it-as I believe-the physical attributes of your body? We shall now test my theory by using what you would call 'agony'. The suffering you endure will open your mind to programming of our design."

The tube stuck into Trevor’s mouth. A clear, gooey liquid oozed from the sides of the tube and covered his lips. As it oozed it solidified, creating a seal. He could not move his mouth, yet he could breathe through the tube.

The Bishop bent close to Trevor's ear.

"You will wither and break, Mr. Stone, a demonstration of your weakness for all to see and then you will be programmed to serve The Order. They will find no implants, yet in the end you will deliver your entire race to blessed Voggoth."

More of the gooey substance poured over Trevor’s head, sealing first his nostrils then his ears, then gluing his eyes open. More liquid came, poured over his crotch and oozing around the middle of his body. The secretions sealed every orifice.

A bloated, organic sack drooped from the torture-spider above Trevor’s feet.

"No permanent damage will be done. We do not want your body harmed. We only want to open the door to your mind."

The sack burst and thousands of tiny red and black insects poured out. They swarmed his body in a creeping blanket, digging at his skin, burning and itching as they moved. The gooey mask muffled his screams and he disappeared beneath the horde.

– Jon pushed the workshop door open before Omar could remove his key from the lock.

"Oh, yes, please, do not worry about breaking my wrist; this is of no big thing."

Jon ignored him and walked inside. Omar switched on the fluorescent lights.

"Wow, lots of toys here."

"Toys? Oh, certainly, so simple a child understanding them would be of no problem."

Brewer turned and stomped directly to Omar. The professor thought maybe Jon had finally suffered enough sarcasm and aimed to whack him.

"I’m just kidding! I’m just kidding!"

"Me and you have to have a talk. I’ve only got a couple of hours and I need your help."

Omar searched for a cigarette.

– Stonewall McAllister surveyed the assembled group of eight with Woody "Bear" Ross and Kristy Kaufman at his side. Dustin McBride also hovered nearby.

"I had the pleasure of commanding some of you during my trek north. Others are new to me, but I am already quite sure of your valor. You would have to have valor-or extreme mental deficiency-to volunteer for this undertaking. It has been my experience that those with valor or those with extreme mental deficiency tend to fight well."