Night was beginning to set as the shadows cast by the surrounding pines grew longer. Everything was bathed in the dim amber glow of a false sun finishing its arc through the dome.
Although the clash with the raptors had been disorientating, I had been able to regain my bearing using the setting sun. Every step was now taking me closer to the compound I had spotted mid-way to the lake.
Delayed for some time to allow my wounds to close, I would reach the structure later than anticipated. Originally, it should have already been in sight. Though it now appeared that I would only arrive after night fully set in, before the artificial moonlight began its rise across the sky box.
I paused for a moment, interrupting my rhythmic trot through the forest. One hand steadied against the trunk of a close-by pine tree while I looked to my feet. Two sickle claws on each side of three, otherwise ordinary, nails. As they raised above ground, all my weight had now shifted to the three remaining toes of each foot. This change in balance was somewhat inconvenient.
A faint breeze ruffled the pine needles overhead. A small movement I had seen the night prior on the way to the peak, caused by falling ambient temperatures. Yet the breeze carried the slight smell of bloody iron. Soon, closing-in cracks and rustle of the forest undergrowth followed.
I had learned the lesson the earlier encounter taught me. The dark gray skin rippled on my body as the camouflage activated. Even if maintaining it during long travel would compromise speed, the illusion it gave would avoid unnecessary delays from clashes with the local life of the forest.
Before long, a deer darted by a short distance away. Bounding and leaping through the forest brush, its side was marked by a long and bleeding gash. Saliva frothing at its mouth, it disappeared as the piercing barks that followed echoed between the trees.
Four raptors soon came into view, chasing in a long file the fleeing deer. Guided by the scent left by dripping blood, their powerful legs kicked up packets of soil as they weaved between the trees. Long rigid tails let them maintain high speeds while making adjustments in their run.
While the first three passed by without issue, their coats of feathers vanishing in the distance, the last ground to a halt. Its talons digging into the dirt as it jumped by a fallen branch. Head dropping low to the ground while its tail raised high behind, taking long sniffs at the three-toed tracks it had encountered.
Mine.
While it raised its head with a low snarl, it was interrupted by a muted squeal in the distance. From where its pack had disappeared. Head swiveling in an instant in the direction of the sound, it resumed its mad dash interspersed with screeching barks. It would join the feast, the injured deer having failed to escape.
The long sigh that came out from my mouth turned into a distorted hiss.
As the camouflage released, my dark gray and black body shimmered back in beside the pine. Long streaks of dried crimson staining my arms, completely covering my lower body where blood had flowed from my torn sides in the earlier ambush.
Despite drying and flaking off in places, these red marks still gave off a faint scent. As I focused on my raised hand, I caught the faint smell of blood, which the raptor must have caught a whiff of it between deep breaths. The scent could give my position away to predators inhabiting these woods.
A liability.
As the moon started to rise, the pines turned sparse and a small clearing appeared. Finding the river snaking through the woods would wait for some time. A rock pile several meters high in middle of the clearing was topped by a black rectangular structure.
A small ladder ascended a smooth rock face before ending through a steel grill platform. An open blast door led inside the compound from the platform. Below, tire tracks cut across the clearing from a path into the woods, stopping a short distance from the cliff.
Observing the structure from the tree-line, although no windows could be seen on the building, the long struts of metal extending out and the small rectangular blocks were unmistakable. A surveillance apparatus: cameras and transmission antennas.
Keeping watch on all-sides.
If there were more in the tree-line, my approach would have been exposed. Yet, the open door seemed to indicate a lack of occupants to witness it. Even so, the images could possibly be broadcast to the monitoring room on the floor below from which I had escaped, if connection were re-established. Remaining undetected would bring long-term benefits, and so my form disappeared when I took the first slow strides into the clearing.
Approaching the ladder, I put a hand on one of the bars to start climbing, then paused. Even without seeing my hand, the bar and ladder seemed too small. Just as the passage through which I would need to fit at the end would not allow my now larger frame.
Leaving the ladder behind, I turned to assess the tire tracks as the next best option. Although the tracks extended close to the rock-face, there was no loading bay for vehicles. Nor a mechanism to open it even as I circled the rock mound back to the ladder.
Something different caught my eyes, just beside one of the anchors where the ladder attached to the vertical rock.
Seemingly random, faint scratches.
Except for a criss-crossed circle making a star.
Holding one nail to the rock, tracing along the scratches.
Overlapping through the haze of foggy memories rising to the surface.
Nail replaced by the sharp point of a knife.
Soft white hands practicing the script.
The tinkling start of a laugh when the point slipped in error.
Cut short by a reprimand.
The covered smile.
Red eyes.
"Fyrrh-ehhhn—nm'… drr-hhhr."
—Crack.
The last scratch chipped when the nail drove deep into its edge, scarring the last icon of the script. The illusion broke when a mangled breath escaped my fangs. A simple word destroyed beyond cognition by a vibrating throat not made for it. Retrieving my hand, the full coded script was still readable, indents made deeper as the nail passed over them. Succession Code left by another operative.
'Squad 7 leader, sole survivor. No hostiles at location. Covert intrusion, intel gathered indicates biological research of large specimens, mission objective not found. Preliminary mapping, enemy structures dispersed in environment. Communications malfunction or interference. Command final orders to regroup at lak—'
It could have been left by the woman. No gunshots had echoed out in the forest, and she may have escaped the notice of the local predators. Succession forces that invaded this floor of the facility would be expected to join up at the lake.
But how to approach contact?
Even if my body could be hidden, vocal communication through mangled words would be impossible.
The problem of contact would be left for when I set off and arrived to the lake from this location. Early mapping of the environment had been possible, and the answers could be found above in the compound.
Slowly climbing up the rocks, my body remained concealed as all limbs worked in unison to take me up. Finally vaulting over the platform railing and landing with a metallic clang. The open door beckoned me further, faded white paint reading SO-16 to its side.
Squeezing into it sideways, the long scythe-talons folded against my body while my claws reached inside, grasping and pulling at the wall. Even then, the reinforced concrete chipped and shattered as the carapace on my back scraped against the frame before I finally squeezed inside. Drawing a deep raspy breath of air.
—Click-click.
The new sickle claws had tapped against the hard floor after several steps, breaking the silence of the room. Several desks lined against the walls in front of large, dark displays. A few had trays with rations long gone cold.
Under the powered-off ceiling lights, no one was manning their post.
Scattered documents on the floor and discarded equipment laid throughout the room, left by either an escape or a searching recon operative. Even as my nails jabbed various switches at the risk of breaking them, nothing turned on.
Further down a corridor, small quarters occupied by two twin bunk-beds made for a second room decorated by various pictures, occupants gone. There seemed to be no access to the loading bay I thought was there.
It was truly abandoned.
At the end of the hallway, a third room comprised of a ceramic floor leading into several compartments, while small mirrors topped sinks with shaving razors still strewn on shelves. The compartments had several nozzles on the ceiling. Sterile showers. Pressing the switch, pressurized water sprayed out.
A tight fit, but it would be possible to wash.
The water hit my body with a flicker, disrupting the camouflage. Seeing the brownish streaks melting into dark crimson, the dried blood covering my body was being washed away. Gathering into black before disappearing into the drain. Closing my eyes, I let the water jets cleanse me.
Feeling the droplets hitting the skin.
The dull vibration of the carapace on my back.
The comfort it brought ended as the water streams stopped with a trickle. Stepping out of it, the faint moonlight streaming from the open door to the Ecosphere. It allowed me to see my lumbering reflection glinting in the mirrors as I returned to the observation room. Faint blood-scent gone from my body.
—Click-click… Drip.
I left a small trail of water, bur there appeared to be no change to the observation room. Without power, the displays would keep their secrets. Yet, it was when I tried to reach for one of the documents that a dim blue light appeared in a corner.
A display had flickered to life. When I stepped close to examine it, only one sentence marked the screen.
Re-boot initialized.
A hum. Then a sudden flash of light overwhelmed my sensitive eyes for an instant. Power had returned, and the League had started their repairs. They would likely try to regain ground soon—
—Clang.
The abrupt noise froze me in place as my reflection disappeared from the monitor. A trapdoor had lifted behind my back. Its seams had been invisible in the darkness of the blackout.
Now, a gun barrel started to peek out of the opening, followed by a dark green helmet. Gun sights sweeping across the room before the wielder fully emerged, face obscured behind the visor.
It was not abandoned after all.