Alex Gore - The Cube

“How are you, Colonel?” The Lieutenant was looking straight into his eyes and despite the darkness in the room could see the Russian’s pupils clearly.

“Better.”

“You are aware that because of your unlawful saboteur’s actions you have to be arrested and stand before a court martial, aren’t you?”

“Right!” the Colonel answered with a voice, surprisingly strong and firm for his condition.

“We decided to release you from responsibility and temporarily close our eyes, on the condition that you cooperate and cease any efforts for sabotage and for communication with your government. I hope, you will remain on our side, we greatly need each man in that crucial moment. Do you agree?”

“But of course, Lieutenant.” Ivanov turned with an effort on the other side, obviously feeling strong pain. “I’ve always been on your side.”

“I’m not convinced about that, Sir.”

“Or at least when we were allies and had a common purpose.”

“Okay. I’ll leave you to rest now, but bear in mind that the cameras in the room are on, and we are following every movement of yours.”

Ivanov sighed deeply and the bed shook. The conversation was clearly over.

“The Rover is fine, the engine was blocked, the battery was exhausted, probably from the magnetic field, but I think we’ll be able to fix it. Mike did a great job.” Norman put a cracker in his mouth with a serene smile, then drank exactly three gulps of water from the plastic bottle, covered his head with the dusty scarf, put on the pilot’s hermetic goggles and went again outside. His face was even dirtier now.

Michael went to the room with the spare parts to find something for fixing the punctured tires and for charging the battery from the generator.

Hans was trying to connect to the rest of the world. He was bent under the desk in the control room with his nose stuck in the satellite connection device.

“Hey, Hans, do you fancy a cracker?” Michael shouted at him. No reaction at all. “Hans, can you hear me, man? Aren’t you hungry?” The scientist was obviously carried away in his thoughts. Michael bit his cracker and left.

After the rage of nature silence came.

The dawn of the new day.

The storm went away as quickly as it had come. The sun led a decisive struggle with the sand grains in the air and was trying to pierce its bright rays through the dusty shadows of the retreating gale. Just a few more hours and the unequal fight would end with the beautiful triumph of light.

Marcela thought how quiet death always was. Even if one had lived noisily, even if one’s voice had overwhelmed the voices of others, one dies alone and in silence. Regardless of how many millions of humans had been under you power, you leave the world weak and pitiful. No matter how many cannons have roared in honor of your royal birth, when you die, only a solitary shot spreads its echo.

They were not going to get out of this. They were not going to make it. She felt it, this was stronger and would defeat them. No way they could oppose it. The sky had turned blood-red, there was no trace left of the ethereal bluish green hue.

They were standing in the control room or in what was left from it. The computers were strewn, broken in pieces on the floor, the roof was almost completely destroyed. The sand, brought in from the storm was even forming small dunes.

The satellite connection did not function, they had no internet and communication with the world was impossible. Their mission was top secret and the people who knew about it were too far away. Even if they decided to reveal their position and ask the local people for help, by the time they reached them, they would be dead without food and water.

They were all alone in that godforsaken place. Even when they arrived here, they knew that there would not be help coming from anywhere. They should put their faith in themselves and God. And God had abandoned them.

Now evil was piling up strength but they knew it would come back soon.

Marcela had just come back from the biological lab, having changed Alan’s bandage.

“Damn! The tank!” Michael rushed in, slamming the door behind his back.

He untwisted the cloth around his head with an angry movement and threw it on the floor. After him the Major came in, clutching his left shoulder with his hand. Both of them were covered with sand, all scratched, cramped and dirty.

“Boys, what happened?” Marcela jumped up and went immediately for the cabinet with the bandages.

“We were attacked by two of those. They were the doubles of Hans and one of the sergeants” Norman said and sat down so that Marcela could put a bandage on him.

The wound was bleeding profusely but was not deep, there was no residue from a bullet or inlet opening, just a number of small perforations as after a bite. Not a bite from a man or a dog, but rather strange in appearance: he was as if bitten by a shark with three rows of sharp teeth. The blood was mixed with yellow-greenish pus.

‘It’s too early for an inflammation process’, she thought. Usually pus appeared in a few days while this wound was only from a couple of minutes ago. Obviously, some unknown enzyme made the biological processes develop faster.

“You’ll feel pain for a second, Norman, I need to disinfect the wound, sorry”, she said and showered his shoulder with peroxide The bubbles created thin froth, chasing out gelatinous whitish strange matter.

Norman clenched his teeth in a painful grimace without uttering a sound. Large drops of sweat appeared on his forehead.

“I’m almost ready, Major, let me put some iodine, that does not hurt.”

“We were surprised or it wouldn’t have been so easy for them”, Michael whispered, collapsing on the chair, very pale in the face. He was losing consciousness and his head was falling backwards.

“Mike, are you okay?” Marcela cried.

“They attacked us with bare hands, while we were repairing the SUV”, Michael said with a trembling voice. “We had no time to react, but we didn’t give up… One of the doubles managed to bite the Major’s shoulder… the other…”

‘But you are bleeding, Mike!”

The young man faltered and the Lieutenant instantly caught his falling body just before it touched the floor, while Marcela leaned over him and tore with her hands his bloodied shirt.

She noticed five holes on the right side below the ribs, out of which dirty black blood was trickling, mixed with whitish fluid, spreading revolting stench.

“What happened to Mike, Norman? Tell me now! What is this wound?”

“Ivanov’s double stuck his five fingers in his stomach like skewers.”

“And he has curled them inside! My God, I wonder what these creatures are made off, if their fingers are like arrows!”

“March, look at this”, Babyface said, showing her the wound. “I’ve never seen such blood, there is something else here, isn’t there?”

“Yes, we definitely have to test this mucus.” She gathered a sample of it in a sterile retort, which she duly sealed. “Mind you, this thing aimed directly at the liver. It knows where to hit, in order to kill the more efficiently!”

Norman stood up at once in order to help the Lieutenant, who put Michael on his back and carried him to the bio lab. To common surprise he did it with such ease, as if the body of the student was made of cheese.

“You’ve obviously picked wisely your people, Major”, Marcela noted and bent over the retort with the sample.