The girl was nothing but pain. She stood there in the doorway, staring into space. Thin, frail strands kept her connected to reality. The run through the forest had been difficult. Our spawn had relentlessly pursued her.
Blood, the red of her’s, along the green and black of her kills, soaked her uniform, stuck to her skin. The young woman’s lovely auburn hair was all askew, as if it was a TV sitcom hint that she had just had wild sex, the censors cunningly evaded.
One hand held a sturdy tree branch, blackened by the blood of our minions. This she kept at her side, the tip resting against the ground. In the other hand, the butterfly knife, it too painted with alien blood, along with the skin on that arm, all the way up to her elbow.
Gavin stared at her, taking in the sight with difficulty. John was looking in her direction, and yet, his mind was clearly someplace else.
As if a spell had suddenly been broken, John told her to come in. She entered without a word, walking casually, as if she was calling on an acquaintance.
The veteran pointed to a seat, one with smooth cushions that were a loud shade of yellow. The girl walked over to the chair with an almost mechanical gait. She settled down onto it mindlessly, still holding her bloody weapons.
She asked for a drink, they gave her a short glass of whiskey, which she downed with ease. Then she asked for a cigarette; one was lit and given to her.
As she smoked, she laid it all out. Our activities at the reform school. The birth. The killing. The connection. The plan to resurrect that which will grace this universe with its glory.
The small army that we sent to the cabin was getting closer.
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John stared into space, “It’s crazy,” we could feel his mind returning to those days of fire and blood in the jungle.
“Crazier than anything else that’s happened today?” Gavin retorted.
John’s expression said, “Fair enough,” although he didn’t actually say it out loud.
Gavin walked over to a window, peered out at the forest, “I don’t believe one part of it. I don’t believe that it can summon some alien goddess.”
John looked through the kitchen, out the back window, “If you are wrong and the enemy succeeds, everything that we know and love will be destroyed or corrupted. If you are right, then it will still kill thousands, maybe millions. Either way, we should do everything in our power to stop the alien.”
“How?” JIll questioned.
“I’ve got an idea,” Gavin said.
“No!” Jill shouted, “It can hear you. And even if it couldn’t, it could still sense your lips moving and read them. Like I said, the creature has insanely powerful senses, things that go beyond our understanding. It can even observe things through its spawn. There’s probably at least one nearby. Trust me, it knows what we are saying.”
“Then I will write my plan down and show it to you.”
“No. It could still feel your hand move, still feel the ink on the paper. If you have a plan, then we will just have to trust you.”
John eyed Gavin unsurely for a few long moments, “Alright,” he finally said, “Take the lead.”
“Okay, okay,” the young man chanted, “Gather up as many weapons as you can carry,” he suddenly turned to the girl, “You are coming with us, right?”
She put the stub of the cigarette out in an ashtray, looked into nothing for a few seconds. Then she smirked and looked at him with eyes like a dark fairytale, “Sure, what else do I have to do?”
She stood up. With a frown, John started bringing weapons and ammo from his armory, piling it on the kitchen table. Gavin and Jill gave them a once over, loaded them up.
Gavin noticed that she was staring at him, “Sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a cute guy,” she said matter-of-factly.
Despite the situation, all his attention turned to her. He flushed, an odd sight when he was so heavily armed.
One of our minions approached the window. They spotted the nightmare face. We commanded the thing to break the glass, to get inside and deal with them. We ordered the rest of the detachment to do the same. The humans reacted. Oaths, bared teeth, hands on weapons.