Deeper Into the Void (25 page)

In this land of dreams, the dead walk amongst the living. Events from the past are relived, and forgotten memories are disturbed from their slumber in the far reaches of the subconscious mind. One is forced to face and reconcile with regret. We are not alone in our convoluted existence here; we are always under watchful eyes. They watch from the shadows; nothing goes unnoticed. Their true nature is indiscernible; the passion of feeling brings them new life in the mind. From whence they come and to where they go no one can be certain.

They feed on the fear, they revel in our despair. Know one thing, that the only way to stave off this unseen assault on a troubled mind is to fill it with inspiration and hope. Eyes deceive, the mind believes and the body presents the evidence to sustain delusion. Stay the mind and quicken the senses, they may present themselves to you.

This world yearns to be free of the plague of man; despite what you might see within the dome, this place wants freedom. Those others that inhabit the empty spaces and shadows within have claimed the dome for themselves; they are travelers from another place, same as we are.

The dark planet, hidden from our view, comes periodically to eradicate the life sustained here within the dome. Under the guise of a solar eclipse, the sun’s radiation intensifies from behind the curtain of darkness. The world groans under the intense irradiative sanitation, although the radiation does not seem enough to kill much of the plant life within the dome, it just alters it slightly.

Beware the hiding places; lurking within are beings without form and which may ultimately be proven to be nonexistent; although that which they touch is forever scarred. A troubled mind offers little solace against the onslaught of perceptive deceit. Things aren’t what they seem to be. Beware that which seems to be out of place, be wary of the realization of dreams made real; they will be proven to be hollow and but a simple device for your undoing. Despite what you may see around you, you are completely alone in cause, but never alone in presence. No ally or support can save you from the inevitable break from within. You can no longer trust your confederates, as they are now being entangled in a thick web of paranoia, hallucination and delusion, from which there can be no escape.

No precaution can be taken against that which remains unknown. The knowledge that one cannot understand their foe is a grievous knowledge to bear. It is far worse to know that you cannot know who your foe even is. I would advise that you leave, but this will not prove to be a worthwhile endeavor. Once you step foot on this ground, you cannot be free of that which lives within you. You have now been integrated into their nefarious purpose.

Once venturing deep into the void within the pond, one cannot return to prior circumstances. The world itself changes around you as to reveal its mysteries to you; unfortunately, this has proven to be a difficult thing for me to bear. The mysterious beings that stalk me in my sleep, and in my reality are too much for me to continue to entertain. I shall be leaving to join the rest of my team.

–End Entry–

The two unarmed team-members standing next to Turner look out into the dreadful dark surrounding them. A faint clamoring of thick boots on the ground sounds out from across the plaza.

The sound, which has been rushing toward them, now ceases completely. Silence again dominates the arena-shaped plaza. Turner points his rifles out into the dark murky air; the flashlight affixed to his rifle illuminates the air directly in front of the barrel for almost a meter. A stealthy breeze moves into the plaza from the path in the forest.

The fog swirls around in the breeze, as if to protest the forceful disbursement of the passing wind. The air seems to clear up quickly; all traces of the fog disappear up into the air above. The exterior lights again reveal the plaza to be empty and devoid of activity.

Brady emerges from the control center in a less-casual manner than he disappeared inside in. Brady watches them whilst holstering his side-arm; he then retrieves his rifle and steps out of the control center.

Parks and Beck reluctantly walk into the hallway behind Brady. He turns his attention off the plaza around them only long enough to ensure that the other two had secured themselves.

Turner nods quickly and pulls his rifle tight into his shoulder as he surveys the rooftops and any other opening that he can see. Brady crouches and sprints across the plaza, staying low to the ground. From the security of the wall outside the laboratory, Brady pulls his rifle up and signals to Turner with his other hand.

Turner rushes up alongside his superior. Turner moves along the wall just behind Brady. At the back corner of the lab, Brady carefully surveys the alley-way between the storage facility and the back of the lab. No movement in the foliage at the back of the alley provides him enough confidence to signal Turner to move up. Both men move from the corner of the lab to the corner of the storage building. Turner keeps close to Brady’s back as they walk slowly along the wall.

Several paces before Brady reaches the corner of the storage building, the other two blue-clad members of the security team appear. The first steps back, out of Brady’s way as he rounds the corner. The long crate sits neatly on the ground adjacent to the utility doorway. The gloomy unknown is barely visible through the small crack of the door as it lay slightly ajar.

No verbal response is given back over the radio to Brady. He nods to Turner, and Turner points his rifle at the two dumbfounded men. Their rifles are gone, and their side-arms are missing from their holsters. Turner gestures to them to sit on the ground.

Brady pulls the rifle tightly into his shoulder and places his finger close to the trigger. He steps side-ways until he rests his other shoulder against the building, next to the doorway. A quick moment later, the door is forced inward rapidly. Brady and Turner rush into the utility control building. The rubber tip of Turner’s boot kicks something out of the way; he looks down at the floor in front of him. His rifle-mounted flashlight casts the object into clear view; it rests upon the floor about a meter in front of his clumsy foot.

A single boot lay on its side upon the floor. The heavily constructed boot is not housing a foot; it lay completely abandoned on the floor. Brady looks away from the focus of his mounted light long enough to notice the odd item lying in the middle of the floor. Brady resumes the task of checking the corners and dark places around the entrance.

The two men slowly draw the light from their flashlights up along the floor to the back corner. Four thin trails of blood lead to the back corner; they seem to have been scraped onto the floor by fingertips, as if to resist being dragged. Brady takes a step closer to the end of the foreword corner, where the trail seems to end. His thick boot crushes particles of plastic on the floor as he rests his weight forward, the breaking plastic groans under the weight as it breaks into smaller pieces.

Turner points his light into a corner of the floor lying just behind the door; the opened door obscures much of the shattered helmet from view.

Turner pulls his rifle back into his shoulder, and returns his focus to the small tunnel of light in the direction of his barrel. His other hand relaxes, and then grips the barrel tightly. Turner steps along the pathway, adjacent to the scrape marks on the floor. Brady walks next to him, he focuses his attention down the various rows of machinery as they slowly make their way to the back corner.

Turner rotates his view down the last narrow corridor. His head cocks forward and his eyes squint, almost as if a problem with his vision might explain what he is staring at. Brady joins the focus of his attention with that of Turner’s.

The illumination emitted from their lights portrays a terrifying sight as it pours into one of the large, clear water storage containers mounted along the back wall. Oddly, the water within appears to be frozen solid; stranger yet, is the crewman frozen in the middle of the ice block. The ice block is located in a large clear container without any access doors, and only small pipes leading to and from it. While they stand, staring into the large block of ice, the outside of the container begins to frost up in the humid air.

Turner cautiously backs into the corner next to Brady and presses his fingers to his helmet again. This time, he doesn’t blink as he watches the shadows in the back of the room.

Brady continues to focus the light on the frozen storage container; the ice-crystals seem to solidify in front of his very eyes as he watches. Brady becomes entranced in the reflecting light as it reflects off of the ice-filled container in front of him. In the back of his conscious mind, he listens to Turner as he transmits the distress call sign, “Pegasus”. What he had earlier dismissed as a simple issue of toxic water now begins to resound within Brady as something entirely different.

From overhead, the two can be seen cautiously exiting the utility control center. The two men, once seated outside the utility control center have now vanished. Brady and Turner begin to sprint across the plaza.

The exterior lights overhead begin to shatter, one at a time. The falling shards of glass rain down around the plaza as the fading lights above disappear into the black of the night sky above. A final light, from within the hallway of the control center, beckons to them.

Outside, the stars shine brightly in the night sky above the bustling activity outside the dome. The starlight reflects off of the tattered glass veneer on top of the dome. The gentle night breeze outside calms to a still silence.

Within, a silent malevolence awakens from deep within. Reason and madness come to coexist once again on the sea of glass. Deeper into the void of the unconscious mind the whispers take root. From behind the cover of dream, the impossible takes its place within the convoluted reality that now comes to be. To the brave of heart comes life; for the fearful, death awaits with open arms.