Ashes (Of the Earth Series)

Chapter 4 - The Anatomy of Despair

The sound of beeping monitors and groaning patients engulfed me as I slowly opened my eyes. The pungent stench of antiseptic and congealed blood filled my nostrils, triggering memories of my childhood.

A multitude of screams pierced my ears and someone close to my face shouted out, "Sir! This one's awake!" I felt a sharp slap against my face, and my eyes flew open to a blinding light.

"Hey! Hey you! Get the fuck up!" The light darted between my eyes as someone leaned in close to me, wearing a surgical face shield. "Shit, doc, this guy's got a concussion, real bad." The nurse looked off to the side, presumably to someone I couldn't see. "He's conscious?" Came a reply. "Then move him the fuck over there!"

The bed I was lying on was roughly taken by two sets of hands and heaved across the room, shuddering and skidding across the tile. 

Unsteadily, I managed to raise myself into a sitting position and took quick stock of where I was; some kind of field hospital or what remained of it. Beds lined the walls. Some patients were still conscious but others weren't. It hit me then that I hadn't been placed here for my concussion alone; the last thing I remembered was an explosion. My fingers and toes wiggled in response when I checked them. They hurt and ached - burned maybe - but otherwise seemed fine. I felt my head, searching for the wound I had sustained earlier in the evening. I felt fresh bandages and the familiar dull numbness of a local anesthetic.

"How did I get here?" raced through my mind frantically. Michael! He had to be behind this - somehow related... But how?

My thoughts were cut short and my gaze froze as the doctors wheeled in the source of the screaming I could hear. Time seemed to slow, and every detail in the room became magnified and lurid, from the sterile metal against the blue walls and tacky wallpaper to the frenzy of doctors and nurses, their voices ringing out in obscenities. 

A young woman lay on her side on a gurney, facing me. She was writhing in agony, her feverish brow beaded with sweat and her pale skin painted with dirt and grime. Between the screams, her breath came in short, raspy and gurgling gasps. Her face was drawn tight, a sinister grimace across her face - and her face was coated in a slick of bright, pulsating red which made my stomach turn. 

As the team wheeled the gurney sideways, they rolled her to lay face down and I caught glimpse of the source of her pain and recoiled. A monstrously evil looking creature no more than seven or eight inches long had its four spindly legs wrapped around her skull and throat like sinister ropes, each one swarming with hundreds of tiny blades that dug deep into her flesh. A gap between the girl's flesh and the main body of the creature revealed a sickening sight - dozens of tiny hooks stabbing downward into her neck, puncturing her skin like razor wire before they splattered back up with flecks of blood, raining down her face and onto the gurney.

The thing's body bulged and quivered, undulating in a way that spoke of rot and maggots, putrid meat and decay. It waxed and waned more and more with excitement as each second passed. It was as if there were something wriggling and thrashing inside, eager to escape.

It was a grotesque mass of slimy, pulsating flesh and muscle, covered in a red and black mottled shell that appeared to be metallic in nature. Small spikes arranged in concentric circles sat upon the shell, jutting out like spears, ready to pierce the skin of anyone foolish or daring enough to touch it. Between the dots were many small red orbs made of a jelly like substance, like eyes shifting uneasily in their socket.

It squeezed the woman tighter and pulled the hook filled maw deeper into her flesh, as blood spurted forth in ever greater gushes and the woman screamed out again in renewed agony.

It was fucking eating her. I pushed up against the wall, trying to look away but failing.

With every passing second, her struggles became more frantic and violent.