When Man Has Fallen; Chapter 3 - Desecration Pt. 1

JAN 8, 2020

Looking over at the guard stationed on the ground by the opening mechanism, Silas spat at him.

“Lower the gate, you stupid piece of shit!’

The guard paled.

“S-s-sir? L-l-lower the g-gate?”

“That’s what I fucking said isn’t it?”

“But we are sending more troops as soon as we can!”

“Just FUCKING DO IT!”

The guard snapped a sloppy salute and stumbled over the crankshaft and yanked on it.

Silas tensed, hearing each individual ratchet click, resounding in the air like notes of death. At eight clicks he yelled at the guard to stop, then ran full speed at the gate, launching himself through the air.

Slamming into the gate, he pounded his fingertips into the hard material, digging the tips into the softer bits of duct tape, finding purchase, his diamond hard fingernails digging into the rough material of the billboards, he propelled himself up the nearly vertical walls. The guard gaped on in amazement.

Reaching the top, he saw a Slinker, stripped of all its equipment, fully camouflaged attempting to squeeze in through the tiny space at the bottom most portion of the opening that Silas had ordered for. Snarling, he changed course, barreling towards the creature.

The Slinker looked up, surprise registering in its multiple eyes. The emotion quickly passed and it bared its teeth; drooling in anticipation, pulling itself fully through the opening, lightly moving towards him, wary of his movements.

He snarled at the beast as his eyes flashed yellow once more, and his teeth grew past his lip. He leapt.

Surprised by this new enemy and its abilities, the Slinker was thrown off, unknowing of how to handle the situation.  It paused. It was a fatal mistake.

Silas collided with the creature, claws extended, he tore into its flesh. It roared, its camouflage flickering through various colors. He swung himself up onto its back, ripping and tearing, bellowing an inhuman cry, tasting blood as his throat was torn by the sheer force and volume of the sound escaping it.

Screaming, the Slinker, was losing its footing, with a creature on its back weighing not much less than itself, and which was quickly gaining in size and weight, it could not hold its position on the wall much longer. With a quick motion of his arm, Silas tore into the bicep muscle of the creature. Screaming again, it fell, Silas along with, thudding to the ground.

Hopping lightly to his feet, he backed away from the Slinker, watching it, waiting for the moment to kill it. Struggling to all fours, the Slinker looked at him, snarling, drool falling from its oversized fangs.
Silas studied its stature, examining, searching for weak points.

Scientists hadn’t quite figured out the Slinker evolution, as it almost seemed to be a completely different creature than most other Infected. All other Infected sub species had almost 80 percent Human DNA, along with what was obvious alien DNA, containing six chemical compounds, whereas all other life on earth had four. Slinkers were as radically different from other Infected as regular Infected were to humans…

Slinker DNA not only had human DNA, but also traces of Reptile and Fish DNA, as well as some insectile DNA. But, what made it most intriguing is that its Genetic Makeup was almost 68 percent Extraterrestrial DNA. Some scientists were beginning to think that maybe they were a higher caste in the Infected society/hierarchy. 

Some had even speculated that they were made in a manner similar to Behemoths, which were created by cocooning several young Infected together and allowing them to create a singular being, but it was thought that perhaps they were made by combining older, dying Infected, who’s human DNA had burned out.

Slinkers, even without genetic examination, were as alien as they came.

Standing at over just nine feet tall, they walked on their primary hands, located on their arms, or front legs. The arms were grotesquely large in comparison the rest of their body, which was relatively slim, both arms having 12 joints a piece and making up the majority of its height, being 8 feet tall each. Each hand was the size of a small sedan’s tires, with 5 jointed  clawed fingers the length and width of a grown man’s forearms. Their legs were extremely small in proportion to their body, with small clawed hands that could be used for grasping weaponry and defensive measures. The body was maybe half the width of a mans, with a spine that had over 300 vertebrae, which, being combined with the many joints in the arms and legs allowed them unlimited flexibility.

The head had been determined as its weakest point, being somewhat of an odd thing itself. Unlike most creatures, the Slinkers head did not contain its nervous system, rather it was a house of nothing but eyes in every direction… Housing 20 yellow hued eyeballs, they stared in every single direction, even downward, allowing the Slinker unlimited 1200 degree vision. They were absolutely impossible to sneak up on… However, the eyes were extremely vulnerable, and the head had no bones, only muscle and ocular tissues…  Blinding a Slinker was relatively easy, once you had located its head… Even blinded, they were still a formidable enemy.

He decided on his target and leapt while his enemy was still disoriented. Landing lightly on the ground immediately in front of the Slinker, Silas flung his clawed hands out, feeling himself grow and his muscles wax in size with each swing of his hands, with each snarl that escaped his throat…  He was vaguely aware of a silent crowd gathering around them, and the sound of gunshots slowly fading into echoed memory.

His hands connected with flesh, ripping, tearing into the ocular tissues. A reverberating, ear splitting shriek emitted from the center of the beast, as Silas danced around the creature as it lashed its arms out, attempting to kill its enemy. Silas danced easily out of its way, fury gripping him. The Slinker lost its balance and toppled to the ground, screaming, and Silas leaped, landing atop it.

Swinging his arms in fury, Silas claws dug into the flesh again and again, the screams getting lesser and lesser, but still his fury controlled him. He screamed in rage, falling to his knees, plunging his hands into the innards of his fallen enemy, greedily coming up to his mouth,  cramming the hot, steaming flesh into his mouth, reveling in the flavor of his enemies defeat.

A sudden gunshot was fired in the air and he stopped, staring, seeing men in uniform in front of him… The urge to hunt, to kill, to serve the Hive came over him, but, at the same time, something else surfaced in him. Something cold and resilient, fighting the hot blood coursing through his veins. A voice of reason, a voice of memory, calling up thoughts of a young woman bleeding before him, mouthing the words thank you… Silas was fighting the monster.

He was still in here. This was not him. This was not what he was. This was his tool. He would take control. He used it, and it would not use him…

Eyes widening, his arms fell to his sides…  His vision cleared as he shrank down, his fangs retracting, the extra eyes shrinking back into his skull, skin stretching tight over the holes where they sat, and he stared into the ashen faces of the men and women of the fort.

“Shit.”