SNAFU: Hunters

Except they had already lost Deacon. And there were 123 residents unaccounted for in this apartment complex. And there seemed to be a Sink Hole somewhere nearby, which meant someone had to open it. And that someone would be dangerous, yes, but not nearly as dangerous as the Sink Hole.

So, as the splinters floated in mid-air and he shined his light into the apartment, Boss was in no way surprised to find that his plan had gone all to hell.

The living room was a crimson massacre delivered in flashes of white light. Blood soaked the walls in angry splashes beside deep, hateful scratches that were adorned with hunks of fatty flesh. Chunks of bone and sinew were strewn about the hallway like a child’s toys. The kitchen sink was filled with red and bubbled with putrid black sewage. The room smelled of shit and vomit and putrefaction.

Someone gagged behind him. Boss knew that was Rook.

“What the fuck?” Mouth stepped forward, accidentally crushed a bone and hopped back. “Shit. Sorry, guy.”

“Boss.” Cypher. And for the first time since he had known her, she sounded nervous.

“We’re finding Leak then Deacon and we’re out of here.” Boss shouldered his weapon. “No one goes off alone. In ninety seconds, we’re out the door either way.” He pointed to the lone hallway in the apartment. “Move.”

* * *

Rook couldn’t think of a single term to calm his nerves. There was no definition or explanation or measure of focus that could possibly push the images that were flashing in front of him from his mind. From the moment the door flew open and they had crossed the threshold, he knew these moments would be forever imprinted on the forefront of his memory.

He was living a nightmare and he knew it. There was no way to escape, not until they had seen their mission through. And that’s exactly what he wanted to do. See this through, get the hell out of here and never look back.

Rook fell in line behind Boss, his head now on a permanent swivel. He could feel uneven sprinkles of fluid dripping on him as he stepped carefully through the ruined apartment. He didn’t need to flash his light to the ceiling to know that stalactites of wet flesh were dangling above him, didn’t even want to, but the sight of this apartment served not only as a shock but as a warning. Something could be hiding up there in the darkness. So, he flashed the light upwards and discovered how bad it truly was.

They reached the first door. Boss kicked it in.

There were bodies – more accurately, pieces of bodies – in every possible position. Some were twisted and contorted in spider-like mockery of the human form. Others were dangling from chains that sunk deep into their skin, stretched out and posed like bleeding, disfigured marionettes, strung up and splayed out with parts from other broken bodies shoved into their abused and ruined orifices. Rook glanced in only briefly; just long enough to be sure it was safe.

“One hell of an orgy,” Mouth said, moving past the door. “Are we sure Leak is alive?”

“Yes,” Cypher said. “And that’s more troubling to me than if he were dead.”

Boss threw a grave look over his shoulder, and Rook didn’t need to ask why. A Sink Hole didn’t just open. Someone had to open it. And if that was the case, and all of these dead weren’t Leak… Well, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.

The next door led to the bathroom. That one, Boss didn’t have to kick in – it was held ajar by another shredded corpse.

Then they had reached it, the last door on the left. The spectral sounds coming from behind it blasted straight through Rook’s chest.

All weapons were raised, trained on the door and, for the first time, Rook felt like he was part of the team.

He wished desperately that he wasn’t.

Boss kicked the door in…

* * *

Inside, a squat shirtless man with a sharp Neanderthal face hovered over a gaping hole in the floor, circling it erratically with a wild-eyed smile. His gnarled hands were bunched like claws, and he was entirely oblivious to the fact that anyone else was there. Boss signaled for the others to hold position and stepped into the doorway. The hole seemed to be growing out of the floor, pulsing its impossible flesh with a respiratory rhythm, blowing putrid air and tortured sounds at him with every powerful contraction.

It was a fresh, fully formed Sink Hole.

“Leak,” Boss said, taking one step over the threshold of the room.

The man stopped suddenly with his back to him, as if hearing a human voice for the first time. His body twitched and jerked rapidly, and he turned. Eyes blackened like burnt out coals, mouth dripping salivary red, he snarled then let out a horrid screech that shook the room.

This was Leak, or what was left of him. What he had become. A Reaver. A man possessed by demon sickness. And there was only one way to deal with him.

Boss put a bullet into the man’s brain, the hollow-point round blowing the back of Leak’s head onto the wall in a crimson fireworks display and sending his body tumbling down the moaning hole.