Love, Death and Robots. Volumes 2 & 3

He pounded down the tunnel and realised the others were with him. At least, Spencer and Coulthard were. They panted as they ran, intent only on putting distance between themselves and that foetid horror. He didn’t dare look back for fear the thing was bulging along behind them, for fear he’d see Gladstone finished off or Dillman caught. He stumbled and nearly fell sprawling at one point as the tunnel floor became broken rock and one wall half-fallen, almost blocking the way. The result of the grenade they had heard earlier. Bones scattered as he kicked unwittingly through another skeleton.

A brighter glow began to fill the tunnel ahead and he pounded for it, heedless to any danger before them compared to the certain death behind.

They burst out into a dizzyingly huge cavern, skidding to a halt on a rock ledge that protruded into space hundreds of metres above the cave floor. The ceiling was lost in swirling mists far above, but a soft blue glow leaked through. The walls of the gigantic space were streaked with the strange lichen and the entire place swam in a surreal glow, almost like wan daylight leaking through tropical waters, incongruous several kilometres underground. Filling the floor and rising high into the wisps of mist was a structure clearly constructed by intelligent design – a huge spiralling tower, hundreds of metres high, with a base at least a kilometre across. Curving buttresses met smaller towers in a circle around it. Monumental, the organic-looking structure appeared to have been painstakingly carved from the rock itself. From their ledge, a mammoth stairway led down to the building’s lowest levels and the cave floor. Each stair was around two-metres high and a similar width; hundreds of the giant steps leading down into haze. The air was colder and damp, smelled metallic and ancient. Everything about the sight emanated age beyond any span of history. Geological age.

“Fuck me,” Spencer said, lifting his goggles. His voice held the taint of madness.

They jumped and spun at a scuffing, puffing sound from behind. Dillman staggered from the tunnel mouth, moaning in agony. His left arm was nothing but useless, dangling bone, his hand gone. Half his face was missing, teeth grinning from the exposed skull where the bubbling, bleeding skin still retracted. “Saaarrrge,” he slurred, reaching out with his good hand as he fell to one knee.

Spencer staggered backwards and turned; vomited noisily. Brown hurried forward, his medical training taking over, pushing shock and horror aside for the moment. But he didn’t dare touch the poor bastard. He looked closely, trying to ascertain where the damage ended. Dillman’s shoulder was eaten away and still melting. The cartilage holding the whole joint together disintegrated as Brown watched and Dillman’s arm bones fell to the rock with a clatter. The flesh of his neck liquefied and blood pulsed from the exposed carotid artery.

Dillman scrabbled at Brown one-handed as the medic gaped, at a total loss, even as the creep of disintegration slowed to a stop. But the damage was irreversibly done and Dillman’s lifeblood pumped out. Coulthard’s barrel slid into Brown’s vision, pressed up against Dillman’s forehead, and barked. The poor bastard flew backwards as the back of his head exploded out across the cave wall.

Spencer continued to empty the contents of his stomach as Brown sank to his knees and shook, mind flat-lining. Coulthard moved to the mouth of the tunnel from which they’d emerged and stared into the darkness. He flicked on his helmet torch and the beam pierced the black. He played it over the walls and ceiling.

As Spencer finally stopped puking, gasping short, shuddering breaths, Coulthard said, “Doesn’t seem to be following us. Maybe it just guards the tunnels.”

“Guards?” Brown managed.

Coulthard gestured at the impossible subterranean structure. “I don’t think anyone is supposed to find that, do you?”

“But what is it?” Brown asked. “What manner of creature…?”

“Best not try to figure it out,” Coulthard said. “Ours are soldier minds. That kind of question is for scientists.”

“I can’t believe it didn’t get all of us,” Spencer said.

“Out of practice maybe,” Brown wondered. “It’s not that quick, for all its deadliness. We only saw four insurgent bodies too. So, four more got past it. It didn’t like our lights, though they only slowed it.”

“The flashlights were more use than the gunfire,” Spencer said.

“Maybe too bright out here,” Coulthard said, staring out into the wan blue glow of the cavern.

“Look.”