Monday, 26 May 2008

Closing in-page 4

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Nothing to do but wait. The Slashers must be smart. Cunning and strong, surely, to be such a formidable enemy, one that leaves no survivors and no trace other than their victims’ remains. I try to imagine how they could be outsmarting us, what we might have overlooked. It’s reassuring to think we have the help of Luke and his group.

I hear a rattling noise, like something scraping on the inside of the walls. I stand up straight. Luke, at my side, straightens up after me. I say nothing and after some minutes we both rest our backs against the wall once more, but stay alert. I take out my radio and put it on the floor next to me. Something buzzes close to my ear, moves my hair like a waft of wind. I shake my head. I look around but there’s nothing there. I stand up and walk around the room, looking carefully for anything that might be out of place.

My hand starts tingling, an irritating feeling like when you test a battery with your tongue. My back starts to tingle as well, and I know something is wrong.

‘Are you OK?’ Luke asks with genuine concern, his hand on my arm. I shake it off.

‘I’m fine,’ I lie. ‘It’s nothing.’ But he keeps looking at me as the sensation invades my whole body.

‘Everybody up!’ I shout. My men are instantly alert; the Intuitives take longer, but they start waking up too. Luke is still by my side.

‘Something is wrong,’ he says, echoing my feeling. I try to find something reassuring to tell him, but my mind is racing. I take a big breath to steady myself, to regain my military discipline, but I can’t. Inside I feel like an overflowing river: strong and chaotic, irrepressible.

The Intuitive understands an instant before I do. He jumps back, but it’s too late. I lash at him with my sharp claws; I tear his arm off. I feel strong, joyous. I look at Gale and the others, and I see them now the way they truly are. We stand surrounding them. Our real memories start to come back, and we anticipate the kill. We are a formidable enemy. We can outsmart any opponent, even if first we need to outsmart ourselves.

The Intuitives stand in a circle with the small boy at its centre. He is staring at me in fascinated terror. He is hiding behind the others to postpone the inevitable, but he doesn’t have any real hope. I can see his death reflected in our bright eyes, and in our pink tongues running over our sharp teeth, a terrible beauty.


Nightwol said...

Ooooh that's good! The transition from "human" to "alien" is slick and NASTY! The horror slips in like a blade between the ribs.

Nittai said...

Thanks! I can tell you like horror stories :)
It is nice to write a plot based text for a change, I'm usually more about character and description. This felt a bit silly maybe, but fun!

Nightwol said...
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