The air reeked of foul smells and of all things it was the numbing stench of petroleum.

“We must be near, commander,” said I.

Ray broke his brisk pace and I nearly ran into him, almost running him over. I stood at his attention while he took out a fine cigarette. Cigarettes were hard to find and even harder to afford these days. In a flash, a match appeared in his hands, which he whipped against his coarse skin to start a small flame. I don’t think he washed for quite a long time.

He eyed me for a long time with his curiously sharp green eyes, slowly drawing out the last few seconds of luxury from the burning cinder stick. A cold front blew into the crevice, leaving me wondering when I will be numb enough to stop feeling my hands and legs. The fact that it rained heavily two days before did not help a bit.

For a commander, Ray Oliver was rather young and… informal. His stout shoulders were laid back against the cold clammy wall and his spine shifted as if to find the best position to take comfort in. His steel-rimmed boots were neatly crossed at the ankles (he usually has just one foot flat and the other on the ball of its foot). His cap was rather slanted, revealing some of his sandy blonde hair.

It took him an hour, the damn full sixty minutes, to say something.

“Hey! You there, what was your name? Oh yes, Sebastian was it? Yes. Just sit down here. You’ll get yourself a cold.”

He’s such a mother, isn’t he?

“Yes, Commander Oliver.”

“The sky looks like its going to weep again, eh?”

“Yes, Commander Oliver.”

“Shall we continue, Sea-bass?”

“Yes sir.”

“And I presume you already know that the territory is restricted Area 45?”

“Yes sir.”

The walls of the factory felt clammy cold and the moisture left a velvety texture on everything. Everything stank and I realized it was not the petroleum. In fact there weren’t any traces of petroleum at all. The warehouse was full of tanks with oozing purple slime. I figured it was the bacteria the government has deployed to make this place a bit more…safer, for us at least. This place was a grave for anyone who ventured into its perimeters. Still, it didn’t hurt to double check the gas mask…

We have reached the end of corridor 1169-42I, the place where we were assigned to search and recover.

The Stench grew stronger as we trudged through the hall. The walls were smeared with blood and splattered with tiny pieces of flesh. Apparently, some “experiments” have gotten out.

Oliver quickly sensed my tension.

“I’ll go first, Seabass.”

“Wait! Shouldn’t I provide recon-“

“No! If anything happens…just run. Okay?”

“No! But-”

“That’s an order from me, Private!”

Then he went, skimming through the rest of the hallway. Then he disappeared through the door.

My eyelids fell silently, my hands tightly grasped my automatic, and my lungs filled with the rancid air.

My earpiece clicked.

“Don’t come in.” Rather raspy for Oliver.

“No, I’ll provide rec-”

“Don’t enter this room! No! NOO! AGG-”

Static.

“Oliver, over. Oliver, over! Blast it! This is some sick joke!”

My legs broke through the hallway, feeling the bones of scientists crunch underneath me.

Unconsciously, my hand groped for the Silencer.

The knob left a trace of warmth. I’ll make him pay for freaking me out.

There was something peculiar on the floor.

It kind of looked like a green marble of some sort.

Then my eyes traced the faint red line attached to it.

My heart jumped thrice.

Oliver’s on the ground, both eyes gouged out, his torso torn to pieces.

I sensed a presence.

“I told you not to come into this room.”

Turned.

Squeezed

point blank