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Dark Iteration (chapter 5)
By solidshoe
Dark Iteration
5: The Pit
They awoke simultaneously, though neither of them knew it, because the room (if indeed they were
in a room) was pitch black. The oriental pipe wielder and the discarded Echo team member had first met on
the tennis avenue, where a pipe to the soldiers face had done considerable damage. So much damage, in
fact, that his partner had assumed the worst, and had simply left the hurt man behind. The pipe to the face
had indeed been cataclysmic. However, it was hardly enough to kill the man, if enough to kill ANY fan. His
teeth was busted, his gums were bloodied and swelled, his nose was shattered, and his right eye was
bloodied. Bits of teeth were lodged in his tongue, but thankfully, none had been forced down his throat,
where they might have caused him to choke. In short, Daily, the hurt Echo team member, was fucked up.
He was in a world of hurt; a pain only rivaled by a root canal without Novocain.
But was he dead?
Daily was far from death. Nobody died of broken teeth and a broken nose. Had he taken damage
directly to the cranium, he might have suffered brain damage. Had the blow been delivered to his throat, he
would have certainly died. As it stood, the guy was simply made ugly. Ugly, detestable to look at, but far
from dead. However, Daily didn’t exactly WANT to be alive. No, waking up in the pitch black, on a
surface that was far too dusty and jagged to be residential, was worse than death. Eternal darkness was
man’s worst fear. How a person came to fear the dark, well that point was moot. Some children were
locked in basements as punishment, and others were told to be weary of the boogie man.
And yet more children just grew up fearing the dark, because it hindered their view, their reality.
Man is a species that must know where it is heading at all times. Darkness hinders that view, making men
terrified. Daily was not exception. He’d worked long hours into the night; participated in twilight missions
and excursions using nightvision. Even with technology, the dark was a scary motherfucker, a phantom that
men wanted to avoid like the plague, only venturing into it when forced.
And right then, Daily was being forced. He’d gone bye-bye from the pain on the tennis courts, and
awoken in both pain AND terror. If only I’d ducked, he thought to himself. His partner had ducked, a
simple maneuver that had caused the pipe to fly over his head and right into Daily’s face. A slight bend of
the knees, and one man walks away in perfect health. Jesus, why didn’t I duck? He didn’t really have an
answer to that question. At least not one that would boost esteem rather than depress it.
Daily reached out, feeling for his surroundings. His hands cascaded of dusty rock. He least he
hoped it was rock. The entire mission was playing out like some scary movie. In the movies, when men,
who were encased in darkness, reached out, they would touch skulls, not rocks. They would find the
severed limbs and skulls of poor victims. They would scream. Then ‘it’ would come for them. After that, it
was either kill, or be killed.
Only, movies were movies. They weren’t reality. In the movies, aliens and giant insects could kill.
In reality, it was the drive of science, the creation of madmen, that killed. The Thunder species was such a
reminder, and Daily wondered how long it would be before one of its kind came to claim his weary bones.
How could he fight something that he couldn’t see? An animal with cat-like reflexes, perfect stealth
capability, and amazing killing prowess? How would a man, a soldier with no weapons and a broken mouth,
dare to stand up to such a creature? The answer was simple. There was no chance. Daily would most
certainly die. The only question was: WHEN? And would it be painful, or quick? Was it in Thunder’s
nature to torture, or to go for the instant kill.
These questions and more, later, on 60 minutes, his mind answered.
Right. He would be lucky to have 60 more seconds, let alone that many minutes. Animals that
could rip toll booths out of concrete, well, an unarmed man would be little more than packaged veal. Daily,
a man who at one time was not afraid to die, decided that it was as a good a time as ever to re-evaluate his
stance of death.
Then he remembered. He was still wearing the riot gear, which meant he still had his supplies,
namely a field knife and the triggers to Semtex. The Semtex triggers were universal, meaning that Daily’s
triggers would be about as useful as the next guys. They wouldn’t need to recover his body if they wanted
to detonate the Guest center. No, because each package of Semtex was pre-configured for a certain
frequency. A basic frequency that could be tuned in by any grunt in the vaccenaty. So Daily had to rule out
the possibility of rescue. What still lingered in his mind was the fact that he could shake things up a bit. He
didn’t HAVE to let anybody walk out of Del Vista Pocoa alive. One push of the triggers, and the Guest
Center would be destroyed. The chain reaction would trigger the Church bombs, and onto the Spa. The
circle of fire would engulf all of Del Vista Pocoa, and even the outlying areas, before settling down into a
basic forest fire.
In essence, Granddaddy resort could be wiped off the map with the push of a button; a button that
Daily had access to. The question was, would the explosion reach him. He had no idea of where he was,
but he guess that he was somewhere in a complex of caves. If he had been taken to the mountain area, he
might be shielded from the blast completely. Then again, if he was too far away, the triggers wouldn’t even
work. Daily thought about his position. Funny how a man on his last leg, didn’t give two seconds thought
to taking everybody down with him. Hell, he’d heard no explosions, so it was entirely possible that the rest
of the teams had ended up as he had. They might even be down there with him. So who exactly would he
be killing? A couple of old folks who had managed to survive? Tango team, or maybe even Bravo team?
Perhaps the explosion would damage the rescue choppers? What mattered most, was that the strike would
kill countless numbers of the deadly animals. That was Daily’s motive. Fuck the humans, kill the beast.
‘Fuck it’, Daily thought, “ I didn’t want to die alone, anyway”.
He reached for his riot vest. Once there, his hands fumbled with the triggers. They were still in
tact. His fingers moved over the test response buttons. This was where it all went down. When he pushed
that button, the trigger would send out a detonation request on the given frequency. If the Semtex lines
responded, the Trigger would beep three times. If the range or frequency was wrong, the trigger would only
beep twice. If it did happen to beep three times, Daily would have ten seconds to push the button twice,
which would shut down the Semtex loading line. If he didn’t act within that ten second period, well...
I die, and I take some nasty lizards, a couple of grunts, and maybe some old folks, with me. Shit,
we all gotta go sometime.
Daily pushed the Test response button. Nothing. Shit, he was out of range. Just his fucking luck.
Not even a solitary beep. Fucking triggers probably didn’t even work. Daily, began to squint in the
darkness. He was pissed. For the moment, death was denied; a locked door he wasn’t ever going to pick.
If his mouth hadn’t been busted so bad, he might have swore out loud.
-Beep-
What? Holy shit! A bead of sweat rolled down Daily’s forehead. One down, two to go. The first
beep just established that the trigger was in working condition. Daily’s mouth began to water. Blood and
mucus collected in the gouges of his tongue. Please, don’t let this last anylonger, he screamed to his pain.
Where is the second fucking beep! Where!
-Beep-
Yes! Two down, one to go. Daily had no doubts now. It WOULD work. He would hear terrible
fireworks, and then the cave he was in would collapse, taking him out. At the most, he might suffocate.
Anything was better than being torn apart. Come on, give me that last beep. Come on your made in Taiwan
piece of shit, blow me up! Daily’s mind raced at a thousand thoughts per second. The anticipation of death
had his adrenaline pumping. Any second, and he would be gone. Heaven, or maybe even hell, awaited him.
He welcomed the after-life with a frenzy. If it was unnatural for a man to want to die, Daily figured he was
probably least natural man on the entire resort.
Come on...Come on! Beep damn you!
It never came. Jesus Christ, it never came! Daily began to panic. The time elapsed since the
second beep, was far too much. Something was wrong. Daily began to think. One way or the other, he
was out of range. Either he was in a mountain cave, or he was far underground. Very far underground. If
there was a god, he would be in a cave. The thought of being underground, it scared Daily something fierce.
His brother, Ethan, used to tease him when they were kids. When the brothers had played camp, or tent, or
adventure, Ethan would always wrap things up by throwing his smaller brother down and smothering him
with a blanket, which signified being underground, or worse, buried alive. Daily could remember the
darkness, the feel of the blankets, the tune his brother’s jest moved to.
Out of the light and into the dark, this is where worms come to play.
In caves beneath the solid ground, the rats run to hunt their prey.
In a tomb or coffin or hole or such, you won’t be in a happy mood.
When the worms and rats and ants and nats come to make YOU their food.
It always ended with Daily screaming, before busting out of the blanket and tackling his brother.
He remembered the words. How long had it been since he’d dare to speak the rhyme of the pit, as
his brother had called it. The rhyme of the Pit. When you hear these words I say, you’ll know that the pit
has come to take you away.
OH GOD! God please! Not underground....not underground.
Daily began to fidget. Were there things crawling on him? Were ants and rats and foul worms
watching him? Was something ‘else’ watching him? Something more vicious that any rat? Daily became
crushed under the pressure of his own thoughts. In caves beneath the solid ground, the rats run to hunt....oh
god, help me Ethan. Let me out of the blanket!
Only he wasn’t under any blanket. He was under Del Vista Pocoa. Far under the wrecked resort,
where only darkness was safe from the rats, the worms, the other...Daily was sure that they had dragged him
down; down to the depths of the pit, where they probably had nests and tunnels. The thought of being in a
maze of tunnels and dead-ends scared him. He knew what it felt like to be the termite lost in the ant colony.
Around every corner, there could be death. Only one of the hundred passages would lead to daylight. More
often than not, the termite was never seen again.
Underground, where worms came to play...Shut up! Where you wouldn’t be in a happy mood...no!
When rats came to make you their food...Ethan where are you!
Daily couldn’t shut his mind up. He should stand up. Maybe it would take standing on his feet to
get his survival instinct to kick back in. Daily removed the riot vest, taking only his field blade with him.
For a second, he entertained the thought stabbing himself in the stomach. The Japanese did it all the time, he
thought, why can’t I? ‘Because it would hurt’, his mind responded. And when your guts hit the dusty floor,
the rats and worms and nats and cats and whatever...would feast on your innards.
That did it. Daily jumped to his feet. Using his fingers, he reached into his battered mouth and
pulled the remaining teeth fragments from his tongue. God it hurt. The blood flowed heavily, and Daily had
to continuously spit to keep up with the flow. Finally, it ebbed, leaving his mouth feeling naked and wet.
Daily turned to move. His senses were erratic. He had no idea of which direction might lead to that one
perfect tunnel, the one that would lead back up. Left, right, just go. His mind wouldn’t cease. Daily began
to walk forward. Forward was always a good direction.
Around him the darkness hung. His eyes would never adjust, simply because of the lack of light.
The chances of Daily finding a way out were so nil. Still, the thought of rats and worms and lizards drove
him one. He walked carefully, because if there was something in there with him, he didn’t want to alert it.
Alone, underground, battered and bruised. So much for the damn third beep. God did have a sense of
humor.
“Help.....me....” Came a voice from the darkness.
Daily spun, and again, he cursed himself for not ducking. There was no pipe this time, but better to
be safe than sorry. Daily’s heart skipped a beat. There was somebody else in there. Daily didn’t move.
How the hell could somebody see him. Was he just blind? That thought scared him. Maybe the pipe had
wrecked his eyes. Maybe he was in a cave after all, one full of light. Please let that be true.
“Help me, I’ve been shot....”
Daily still didn’t move. So he wasn’t alone. There was somebody else in there, and they’d been
shot. Shot huh? God did work in mysterious ways. Revenge was a dish best served cold.
“I know you’re there.....I can hear you moving away. At least I hope you’re a person. Please....I
can’t see...who’s there?”
Yeah, it was him all right. The accent, him saying he’d been shot. Both of them being in the same
room. Daily, meet the pipe wielder, AKA Big Hurt Junior. If Daily still had a workable mouth, he would
have smiled. Instead, he reached down and unlatched his field knife. Now he could make out the direction
of the voice. Yes, he would take somebody with him all right. The man who had wanted to play hero. The
fat oriental guy who fancied pipe smashing. Funny...lets see how you fancy this blade. Daily moved in.
“Oh god....please say something! Please, I can hear you. I know.....I know you’re there. Please,
I’ve been shot. Help me....!”
Daily stalked the darkness, his knife drawn, his mouth once again filling with blood. He spat,
making the sound loud on purpose. He wanted to confuse the guy; wanted to have the guy in absolute
terror before he plunged the blade into HIS mouth, before he cut out all of his teeth. Before he had some
much deserved fun. Daily spit again, aiming in the direction of the voice. He wanted very much to spit on
this man. Maybe he would, after getting on top of him and talking to him a bit.
“Please...if you’re....if you’re one of those assassins....please understand....we were just protecting
ourselves! Nobody wants to die!”
“How wrong you are. You know where we are? We’re underground. Underground, where the
rats and worms come to play. Where the darkness wants to be your friend.”
Daily had snapped.
“Wha--what the hell are you talking about?! Please, help me up. We stand a better chance if we’re
together.....”
“Let me guess? All you need is your iron pipe, and we’ll beat this thing, right?”
“Oh god, it’s you. Oh no...not you! I....I got lucky! It was a lucky blow!”
“Guess I shoulda ducked. Guess you shoulda killed me when you had the chance. Shoulda,
shoulda, shoulda...”
“Oh god...you’re crazy...”
“Excuse me, but you hit me in the face with a steel pipe. Don’t you fucking TALK to ME!”
Daily sound like an old man with his dentures in. Blood and spit flew everywhere as he talked.
Then Daily spit again, and it landed right on the pipe man’s face. Daily stood over the fat man, just staring
down into the darkness where he was sure the guy’s face was. Under him, the man sobbed, pleaded for his
life. The pleas went on deaf ears. Daily raised his knife. Now, Ethane’s hymn looped in his mind. Over
and over again, he heard it...the rats hunt their pray....in a good mood....worm food. This bastard was going
to be worm food.
And even as Daily readied himself for the strike, even as he was plunging down to kill this fat
oriental man, he could sense something. It was watching them. Oh god, how did Daily know that? It had
been there all the time, watching observing. How do you know that?!!, Daily screamed to himself. His knife
became buried in the arm of the man. Stupid guy was protecting his face. Nevermind. Daily began twisting
the sharpness in the fat man’s arm. Something’s watching us fatty, so put on a good fucking show! How
easy it was to get lost in the mayhem.
Except the show wouldn’t go on. The oriental man’s cries became suffocated. Suddenly,
something was covering his face. Daily could feel the breath on his neck. He could sense the erect creatures
that had surrounded them. Oh god, was something coming close to him? His senses went off like a fire
alarm. Daily fall to his behind, trying to crawl backward like a child afraid to get a whooping. He backed
into a thick, powerful object, he could only assume it was a leg. He’d backed into one of the reptiles.
Somewhere in the dark, something terrible was standing over him. Even if he looked up, Daily wouldn’t see
the attack coming. There were many of them. He could almost feel them, like hot moist air; you couldn’t
see it, yet you could FEEL every bit of it.
Daily spun off of the foot. He ran into the darkness. The sound of shuffling pursued him.
Something was chasing him. With each stride it took, it emitted tremendous deep breaths. Daily would
never make it, and since he didn’t even know where he was going, it was a lost cause. Instead, he pulled his
knife again. He turned, knife drawn, ready to do battle with whatever hit him. His legs splayed wide, his
face squinted up. He snarled through torn gums. Fuck it! Come for me!
The first blow landed on his left rib. Daily screamed as he felt the skin on his waste become
tattered. The claw had gone deep. Luckily, the rid hadn’t cracked. With fire in his side, Daily swung the
knife. Amazingly, it connected. The blade hit a wall of scale muscle, and instead of plunging deep and
drawing blood, it bounced like a rubber ball. The impact stung Daily’s wrist, and the knife went flying. And
even as the knife was flying into the darkness, a blade belonging to the animal slit a perfect seam across the
soldiers gut. For a moment, Daily felt nothing. It had been so fast. He hadn’t even felt it.
Then the attack stopped. The shuffling went away. Daily was alone. That was when he felt the
warmth flooding his lower body. In stunned silence, he reached down and touched....mess. Intestines
hanging out of a slit gut. The blood flowed freely as Daily tried to stuff his innards back into their original
home. Then he fell to his knees, where he screamed out loud at his failure. And he didn’t die. No, Thunder
had spared him, at least for the time being. He would most certainly die of blood loss. Without a suture, he
was a goner. Scary how the animals knew this. The reptile had spilled his guts, then left him to die. The
dizziness overtook him. Daily rolled over on his side.
So this is death. Slow death. The warm feeling began to spread throughout his entire body.
Somewhere in the darkness, the oriental man screamed. He screamed a cry that sent shivers up and down
Daily’s relaxed spine. So warm. That voice had been so full of terror, of pain. They were hurting him bad,
and Daily had to smile at that. Better fat man than him. Sorry prick would never wield a pipe again. Pipes,
beeps, rats in a cave...all that mattered then was the warm feeling. Daily slipped in and out, his eyes
fluttering with the rise and fall of his heart. The glow of death shone bright on him. It wasn’t so bad as he’d
thought.
That was why he didn’t complain when thick ripping jaws latched onto his leg and began to pull
him deeper into the pit. He didn’t mind the soft burn of the rocky floor under his sliding back; didn’t really
feel the need to complain when he was violently thrown into a nest of hundreds of small lizards, each a
miniature version of the deadlier adult.
And again, even as they started to eat him alive, he didn’t utter a word.
Death would come soon enough.
1/2/02 12:13:41 AM
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