Entity [ONC 2024]

12

She expected him to talk, to ask her why she was there or to tell her to leave. Porter didn't expect Finnegan to grab her hair and smash her head into the nearest slab of equipment. Lights flashed before her eyes and intense pain followed as Finnegan held on to her hair, slamming her twice more into the bulky metal. Through tear-filled eyes, she saw droplets of blood drifting away from her. Her own blood. But Finnegan had not finished.

Like a rag-doll, Finnegan hauled her back the way he had come and, supporting himself against piping, he shoved her down toward the metal grating of the floor and placed a booted foot against her throat. He said nothing. Not a word as he pushed up with his arms and down with his boot, Porter's fingers scrabbling against the fake leather, nails catching and breaking against the rough laces.

"Finn ... Finnegan!" She fought for breath but the pressure continued to press against her throat. "Stop! You're killing me!"

Such an obvious thing to say, but she hoped some vestige of her colleague remained. Her feet kicked ineffectually, catching against piping, against the floor. All the while, Finnegan stared down at her, his face a mask, unemotional. Not a care upon his features. His head tilted as she fought to draw in more air and, as her hands began to falter and fall away from his boot, he turned away, leaning down to pick up a tool from the box.

Incredibly, he began to ignore her, attaching the tool to a valve on some nearby part of the engine assembly. Every so often, he turned his head toward her as air returned to her lungs, but he continued to make repairs until a low rumble began to sound all around them. Minor adjustments followed, another tool used and the rumble turned into a roar as the repairs brought the mighty engines to life.

Once done, Finnegan returned the tools to the box as though it were the most normal, natural thing to do before lifting his booted foot from Porter's throat. As though he had all the time in the world, Finnegan closed the tool box then turned himself in the air to place all his attention back upon Porter. A slight push and Finnegan now loomed right above her.

Still trying to gasp air back into her lungs, still dizzy from the strikes to her head, Porter tried to kick herself backward, unable to find purchase on anything that could give her the momentum to float out of Finnegan's reach. Her arms flailed outward, trying to catch hold of anything to pull herself away from him, but still Finnegan floated toward her. No rush. No haste. Only an inevitable downward motion.

He grabbed hold of the shoulders of her coveralls, taking a grip so strong Porter couldn't believe it was the same man. With no effort at all, he flipped her over, pressing against her and tugging her collar down. The back of her neck. He had exposed the back of her neck. The same place where he had suffered his bruising, where the captain now had a similar bruise. Tears continued to pour from Porter's eyes. Not through the pain, though her head still throbbed and pounded, but through fear of what was to come.

"No. No!" Her fingers scrabbled at anything she could touch. "Not me! Not like this!"

Something touched a finger and Porter stretched as far as she could, folding her fingers around it and, through the pain and tears, she saw what she had caught. Not a weapon. Not a tool. The gas syringe. With the initial blow to her head, the syringe had fallen from her fingers, but it hadn't floated far. But, in the struggle, the ampule had dislodged.

Something dripped against her neck and Porter knew she had little time left. Little time before the entity inside Finnegan passed on to her, propagating, multiplying. That was what the message from the alien captain had said. An instinctual urge to pass on its genes. All creatures had it, but most were benign. She saw nothing benign here. Nothing natural.

The heel of her palm slapped against the ampule, battering it back into place and she twisted as far around as she possibly could, reaching for some part of Finnegan's body. He still held her shoulders and Porter aimed for that. For his hand. She had one chance and only one chance before she could do nothing but surrender to what came next. Only, this time, there was no self-destruct to put an end to this infection, this infestation. Only she now truly knew what was happening here and if she didn't survive this, the entire Earth could fall to this entity.