Wicked Design

"Nichole, you have to stay with me," Anderson demanded when I started to whimper and sob.

His breathing was more labored and his coughing fits more frequent.

I nodded and forced myself to calm down, but it was a losing battle.

The tears trailed down my face uninhibited, and I ground my teeth together. Sobs formed hot rocks in my stomach. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pursed my lips, breathing in and out through my nose instead.

I shook my head and tried to clear the tears from my eyes so I could see.

"More will come out of those eggs and when they do, you cannot be here. Do you understand?" Anderson was trying his best to enunciate through grunts of pain.

There wasn't much room for interpretation. I had no choice but to understand.

"Just thrashing around isn't going to get you out of this stuff, okay?"

I didn't even mind that he was speaking to me like I was five. Somehow, it was soothing.

"I know, I know, okay. I can do it."

His head bobbed and he took in a deep, pained breath. "You gotta do it smart. Take deep breaths, lean against it. The only way you'll get out is if you work at the same spot and wear it down."

He managed a small smile and demonstrated for me on a section he'd been working at before . . .

/Before he was face-hugged by the parasite./

I thought for a moment, then picked a spot on my right. I pushed against it over and over, leaning and bumping into it as hard as I could.

When it started to create some slack, I choked back a laugh. "It's working!"

"Good—just keep doing that. When it's loose enough to get your arm free, you'll be able to pull more away. You have to work fast, but do NOT panic, okay?" he advised. His voice was heavy and his body bucked.

"Okay, okay. I think I can do it. I will do it," I amended, shoving against the spot I'd picked with more vigor. It slackened further and I could almost feel fresh air on my hand. "What about you?"

"Forget about me. Forget about them all unless you can without a doubt save them, okay?"

"What?" I stared at him in horror.

"Do NOT stop for anyone. Their best bet at survival is you getting out and finding someone else . . ." Anderson's body heaved and he choked on air.

"Lieutenant?" I whimpered in a small voice, stopping my movements.

He said nothing, and his body began to convulse.

My eyes widened and a fresh batch of tears spilled down my face. I was unable to look away as the area around his chest bulged. His bones cracked and splintered like ice, his flesh tore like fabric, and then he let out a haunting scream.

With one final, sickening snap, the cocoon burst and his blood misted the air. I watched on, horrified, as a slick head slipped out from the hole.

It hissed and peered around with a sightless, gray face. I gawked as the little baby creature thing squeaked and climbed out of Anderson' chest cavity.

The thing tumbled to the floor, peered around again, and slithered off.

To the side, an egg had hatched during the commotion. I thought maybe I was done for, but it launched itself at the person in front of it, latching onto their face.

I made no sound for a few seconds, sitting in abject terror. My chest heaved with mounting intensity until I was wheezing in fits.

All sounds warped and my vision blurred as if I was in a vat of water. Nausea turned my stomach and I retched, losing the dinner I'd eaten hours ago. No part of my brain could process, wanted to process, the scene I had witnessed.

My mind threatened to pull me back into the darkness. It didn't want to deal with what it was seeing, but I knew that would mean death.

Even though my heart was about to beat itself out of my chest, I couldn't go under. I closed my eyes tight and fought to control my breathing. I struggled to dispel the dizziness and nausea.

It took several minutes of crying and groaning through clenched teeth, but I did it. My hearing returned and my eyes focused. The fuzzy feeling went away, and the heat behind my eyes cooled.

I had to stay conscious. I had to stay lucid.

/Have to get out./

Through the panic, I remembered Anderson's advice. I continued my work with vigor, loosening the crust around my right arm. The entire time I repeated a quiet, desperate mantra in my head.

/Must not lose hope. Must not panic./

My hand wriggled free, then my forearm, then the rest. I flexed my fingers and bent my elbow to make it sure worked, then starting prying.

It took all the strength I could muster to tease chunks from the cocoon and free my shoulders. My chest soon followed.

Mere feet in front of me, an egg squelched and hissed. I ignored it in favor of leaning my weight forward, straining against what remained of my prison.

Teeth gnashing and muscles shaking, I broke free and tumbled to the ground. Its embrace was hard, but the pain was negligible.

I was free.

But, it was out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Ashen legs mounted atop the hatching egg and tiny mewls heralded the arrival of the parasite. I whirled around to look for something to use, sending pieces of crust scattering into the mist at my feet.

Anderson was there, his head cocked at an unnatural angle and his jaw slack. Blood and pieces of viscera tracked red down his cocoon. My shoulders quaked, but I lunged for the plastic at his hip.

Gravity shifted his body and a globule of lung matter dropped to the ground. I squeaked and recoiled from shock. My stomach churned and I almost retched again, but I swallowed the bile that rose. His gun was right there, tucked at his hip.

The creature sounded off again. I whirled around in time to see it soaring toward me, its legs splayed out and tail trailing behind it like a ribbon.

Years of honed goalkeeper reflexes brought my hands up in time to protect my face. The parasite hit my arms and its long tail wrapped around my bicep.

That thing was stronger than it looked. Its tail tensed and flexed around my arm, pushing against me and trying to pull itself closer to my face.

I struggled and stumbled backward until I hit the wall. As the creature thrashed, the clawed tips of its digits tore shreds from my coat's sleeves. The bottom of it was fleshy and inflamed—puckered like something from hentai.

After another bout of struggling, the center shifted to reveal a grotesque and phallic appendage.

I slid down the wall until I was on my ass, my head turned away. With it pressed against my forearms, I couldn't keep the /alien mouth-cock/ far enough away.

Eyes wide as saucers, I flipped over and shifted so I could wedge the thing against the ground.

When my hand pressed into the disgusting squishy core, my teeth gnashed. The thing bucked and almost freed itself from underneath me, but I slammed my knee into it—a tremor of disgust wriggled down my spine at the sickening squashing sound.

It writhed and squealed, its legs lashing, but I successfully pinned it.

It let loose a single squeak when I pushed harder and its grip loosened. Before it could recover, I pried its tail off me and swung it around with all the force I could muster.

An angry scream ripped from my throat as I bashed the parasite against the wall, splattering it like a bug. It took two tries for a lethal rupture of green-yellow blood, then I left it suctioned there.

I watched it to make sure it was dead, my shoulders and chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. Broken, insides now outside, it slowly slid down the wall.

Otherwise, it wasn't moving. I'd won.

The victory was short-lived. Through the silence was the hiss of released air, the scuffle of skittering legs. I spun around and searched until I spotted the egg about to hatch.

Next to it, another unborn parasite was beginning to stir inside its womb. Then another.

There were so many more.

Doing my best to censor Anderson's gaping ribcage, I zeroed in on his pistol and lunged. A section of the cocoon holding him up blocked it in so I had to tug at the resin with one hand and try to wiggle the gun free with the other.

Still and all, I was able to pull it out.

Thanks to the Colorado Youth Outdoors club, I knew the gist of how to work it. My mom and I were two-year members alongside a bunch of others, but all they'd taught us was gun safety for hunting.

Also, the only gun I'd ever fired before was a rifle. Once.

I had to make it work, so I pulled up everything I could recall from the hunting class. I checked the safety first—off. Then I pulled the slide back the way they did it in the movies . . .

A bullet snapped free from the chamber and I startled.

"God dammit," I choked out. At least I knew the gun was loaded, if one round lighter.

Behind me, the parasite creature squealed. My gun was up and sighted as I whirled to face it.

It was already airborne.

My breath hitched in my throat and I squeezed the trigger, firing two rounds. The recoil jerked my hands and the sound surprised me, causing the first shot to miss.

Thankfully, the second shot hit home and the parasite lurched in the air, falling flat on its back. When it continued to thrash, I popped it one more time.

With one final death jerk, its legs curled inward as the rattle of its last breath whispered.

I sat there for as long as I could, but I wasn't out of the fire yet. There were others rustling around, and another parasite had fixed itself atop its egg. Now I was accustomed to my firearm—sort of—and I targeted the next one.

/Click./

"NO!"

I pulled the slide back and tried again.

/Click./

/Click click click./

Three shots. One bullet ejected on accident.

Rage replaced fear. Red tinted my vision and I let out a strangled battle cry before charging the parasite. It was still in that foggy state of post-birth and I was able to get the jump on it.

I was screaming the entire time as I punted the gross creature across the room. It slapped against the ground and I was on top of it in an instant, beating it with the butt of the gun.

Soon it was an unrecognizable mess of grotesque limbs and crumpled flesh.

My hands and face stung. The gun's grip was a melted mess of plastic. Shaking, I dropped the weapon and scrambled back. I rubbed my face on my jacket sleeves and my hands on my pants, relieving some of the stinging.

Still more. More more more.

They were all going to hatch, one after the other. This wasn't going to end until they were all dead. I ran to each egg and stomped the life from them until they turned into a heap of mush.

Though my shoes smoked, I kept at it.

Egg after egg crumpled under my boots until there were only a few left. Searing pain at the bottoms of my feet forced me to stop.

Gasping, I threw myself on my ass and pulled my boots off with trembling hands; the soles had melted through to my socks. Holes littered my pant legs, but the long underwear beneath were untouched.

I tossed the boots aside with confused revulsion, then peeled my tattered socks off. My feet were red and blistered, but otherwise okay.

I froze and listened.

What was left of the eggs lay motionless and dormant. No sounds, just that incessant drip coming from the background. I waited what seemed like forever, sitting, but there was no signs of life.

For now.

All the thrashing and moving had dispelled the mist, but the muggy humidity remained. Avoiding the puddles of acid, I padded to the rest of the eggs—the floor beneath my feet was cool and soothing on my burns.

I dropped to my knees by each egg and, in turn, pushed them over. My feet scrabbled against the hard floor, causing me more pain, but I was able to shove the eggs until they were up against a wall.

From there, I heaved until they popped open, leaving the premature creatures to slide out and convulse before dying. Then I was up, searching the room for others. For signs of danger.

White noise. The occasional rustle of the unconscious people on the wall. No immediate danger. No more eggs.

Nothing.

Relief washed over me and I slumped to the floor.

Something fumbled to the floor across the room and I shrieked before I could stop myself, holding my hands over my head.

A moment passed and I uncurled from my ball and limped around the edge of the room toward a staggering form. It was one of the face-hugging aliens, stumbling as if drunk.

What was I to do? I had nothing to kill it with. My feet were bare, so I didn't want to kick it, either.

It soon flopped over and died, though, leaving me a little confused. Suddenly, the person in front of me started coughing and I threw myself backward again.

Whoever they were, they were unconscious, so I stood and nudged the dead parasite. The dead facehugger. It must have completed whatever it was doing and died.

Its only purpose was to . . . IMPREGNATE a host.

Slime dripped down my forehead and I went to wipe it off. Again, I saw the blood on my fingers and my mind emptied. From the vacancy came Anderson's agonized scream, then the sound of his ribs splintering in half.

The squeal of the creature bursting from the cavity.

When I came back to myself, I was hiccuping and whimpering. Tears left dirty streaks down my face and I wrapped my arms around myself as if to keep from falling apart. I spent the next several minutes doubled over, sniveling and moaning through gritted teeth.

/Have to get out./

I sucked in a breath and ceased my rocking. A couple more hiccups racked me, and I wiped my face, slicking slime through my hair.

The completely ordinary task of taking the scrunchie on my wrist and putting my hair up was calming.

More sobs choked my throat as I took in all the death around the room. I pushed my hands against either side of my head, trying to squeeze the images out of my head so I could move on.

I needed to leave. I couldn't be in the room anymore.

Shoes. I needed shoes.