Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-28060931-20160918203623/@comment-28060931-20161031173859

I have not posted here for what seems like centuries, but I finally got the second draft done. Sorry for the delay: my original re-write was deleted and then I had thing to deal with. Anyway here is my second draft.

I have never, in my twenty-two years with the Mountain Rescue Team, seen such a relentless blizzard, the branches it blew off trees bombarded us savagly. I made out Bill's silhouette pushing against wind. He wasn't made for this kind of work. He was more the office type; many of my friends would assume I would respect him for taking on this job, but that is not the case: he is a complete idiot. I would not mind him working just for the money, but if he was smart he would not need to work a job he hates.

I should pity him for his financial state, crippled by his sons lung cancer medical bills, and I should respect him for facing his troubles head-on, working his ass off to put food on the table, and his dedication: he begged the boss on his knees to let him take on the job in spite of his influenza. But he's an amateur when it comes to the world. He should not have married so young -- he's only twenty-two, he should not have had a kid without a steady paycheck and, although this is a rumor, he should not encourage his wife to sell herslef on the street, even they are desprate for money.

When I put my foot down, It did not meet the ground; insteasd, my momentum threw my forth into a spiralling tunnell. I fell ceaslessly down. Bill screamed somewhere. And when I thought I'd never see the bottom, I flew through a small hole into a dark room. Soft snow cushioned the impact.

I struggled to feet and massaged my temple. I looked around, trying to make sense of the distorted pictures that jumped around in front of my eyes. When they melted into one image, I saw a dark cavern, littered with animal bones; Bill was doubled over on the ground. I was disturbed by the bones but assumed that animals got trapped here for centuries and the bones piled up for centuries. When I approached him, an amazing jet of blood shot out of his nostril. I pulled him up and slipped my left arm under his left shoulder and supported him.

On the south end of the cave, there was a verticle oppening, barley wide enough for us both. When we limped out of the opening, a strong smell of rot and decay hit us. Bill gasped when I dropped him, and crawled to the centre of the cave. We were in a circle, a light fog hovering in the air, three stone slabs lying on the ground and an aparture in the opposite wall -- a verticle drop with stalagmites and stalactites sticking out like canines from the walls.

"We oughta light a fire and rest for a while, then we can think how we are gonna get out of here." I said, as I spilled out our emergency fire starter kit onto the floor. A phile of gasoline, safty mathes, paper, and box of coal and twigs.

"Will that be enough to last us the blizzard?" Bill said warily.

"If we're economical with it, then yes. It's a big one but it should subside by tommorow morning -- if it doesn't, then that won't affect us much anyway."

"Not affect us!" Bill was outraged. "What kind of fucking rescue chopper will fly in this weather. You don't intend to go further, do you?"

"You're not intending to huddle up beside the fire for twenty hours and wait for someone to jump down a hole in hopes of finding you."

"I'm sick and weak and not too keen on exploring a random cave in the fucking Ural Mountains during the height of fucking winter."

"I changed my mind. If the pilot is as stupid or suicicdal as you coming to work with the flu, we'll probably see the rescue team as soon as we don't report when the lines are back up. What's that? If you needed a job then why not lick floors at McDonald's, or suck cock on the street, huh? What, are you too good to suck cock, so good that you tell your wife to do that, eh?"

"Don't make this personal, or..." Terror surged through Bills face. He stared blankly at me, then mucus and blood trickled down his cheeks and he helped himself to the ground where slept.

I lit a fire near the stone slab and ripped some cloth from my jacket and, when I made sure he was breathing through the mouth, blocked Bills nasal discharge. I tried to contemplate our situation, but my eyes kept wondering off to Bill. The fire cast pulsating shadows on the pale wreck of a man; I did not regret what I said, Bill needed to be sharpened up. He was a little bitch. He wanted to stay snuggled up and wait for help. If he could not deal with the circumstances, he should have stayed home, or better yet started sweeping tescos for minimun wage -- rescueing lifes was for people who had the balls to do it.

I lowered myself onto the stone slab near the fire and slept.

I woke up at midnight. The room was dark and misty, but I fancied a faint toxic-green light coming from the aperture in the wall. I stretched down and fumbled around for my shoes; my hand searching blindly in the dark, then I felt something solid. The thing suddenly twisted and seized my hand; I felt slimy fingers tighten around my wrist with crippling strenght. My lungs stopped functioning, sweat squeezed through my pores, and when my eyes adjusted to darkness, I saw a poison-green hand holding my own and I unleashed a strangled scream.

I broke its grip and scrambled back frantically. I did not move a muscle for two hours. When my fear was overpowered by curiosity, I reached into my backpack with a shaking hand and took out a flashlight. The second the beam lit up the room was the second I pulled my hand back and swung the heavy object at the foot of my makeshift bed; using all my momentum and strength I crashed the flashlight into the place where the hand was.

The flashlight broke the second it hit the stone... there was nothing there.

"Hey, what are doing!" Bill yelled.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"Where do you think? I didn't move from the bed. What is all the racket about, did you have an aneurysm?"

"Give us a light, will you."

When Bill flipped on his flashlight, I told him the whole story. He look at me gravely and shook his head, "It was in your sleep, had to be. And if your crazy enough to think that shit was real, you're in no state to decide what course of action we'll take."

"I'm going down there and looking for another way out, if you wanna stay here and wait for hypothermia to get you, be my guest."

"Hey! I need medical supplies and kindling for a fire if I'm to wait for help."

"Too bad that I have them in my pack, oh well, I guess you'll have to manage without the supplies."

Bill took out a half-empty pack of tissues and blew his nose; he struggled to his knees and pushed himself up, he nodded and we wrapped rope around nails which we hammered in just below the aparture.

We rappelled down, maneuvering between the sharp rocks protruding from the walls. When our boots touched the ground, we sighed in relief. We were staring into a dark tunnel; the floor was littered with bones of animals and the walls smeared with blood.

The air was thick. And there was this weird sensation, it was unexplainable: it was this feeling of impending danger, but it was vague and distorted. The bones crunched under our boots as we stalked down the tunnel. It was cold, very cold. Halfway down the tunnel I felt for Bill's hand and squeezed it. A few minutes later, I saw a flicker of green light further down the tunnel.

"Did you see that?" I asked Bill.

"What?"

"The green light. Look, there it is again."

It was more distinct this time: a venomous green light rising and waning from deep down the tunnel. Bill fumbled for his flashlight. It shattered on the ground when his grip failed. A scream rose from somewhere in front of us. Our hands squeezed so tightly that I felt my blood stop circulating.

"W- Wha... What was that?" Bill mumbled.

A shuffling started somewhere far away; it steadily grew louder and faster: like something was charging at us. I was breathing frantically, my hands shook, and I tried to scream but my lungs failed.

When my self-defense mechanisms kicked in, my eyes darted to Bill. I saw a flare attached to his belt. The shuffling was getting louder. Since we had no flashlights, I quickly ripped the flare of Bill's belt and removed the cap, striking the end of the flare against rough end of the cap. A fireball of sparks erupted from the flare, and I threw it into the tunnel.

When it hit the ground, the steaming red bulb of light revealed a amphibious yet humanoid shape which screeched and fled.

"What the fuck was that?" Bill choked.

"I don't know." "We need to go further." Bill said.

"Let's go back, please."

"We can't and it's all your fucking fault, you bastard."

We moved forward until we found an opening in the wall, it looked down onto a abyss. We set up camp here. Bill's coat was drenched in mucus, mucus was streaming down his cheeks, and we were both shaking frantically -- it was fucking freezing.

The flames dyed down until only embers gleamed in the darkness; Bill coughed up mucus and took out a pack of tissues with a trembling hand. Only one tissue left. I looked down into the dying fire, there was a chance that if Bill threw in the tissue it would catch fire and the undamged ends of twigs might burn, providing us with an extra five minutes of warmth.

I proposed that to Bill. He gazed into the fire: not much time to decide. On one hand, heat is good for both of us; on the other, he is choking on the mucus. In theory, he would benefit more from relieving his sinus.

Bill cried and cast the tissue into the fire. Flames engulfed it and spread onto the twigs. It was about three minutes of a pitiful fire, but to us, it was like ten seconds of heaven. We drifted off to sleep.

I woke up a little later. The air was heavy and tasted of rot and decay, it was freezing and dark -- except for the faint green light. I knew what it signified; I took out a flare. The smell made me gag. I heard a rustling on the legde near the opening, that's where the light came from; I saw green, bony fingers dig into the stones and the muscles on the hands tensed.

The hands were pulling up a body. I squeezed the flare, and I saw a horse-structured skull enveloped in glowing green hide emerge from the darkness of the abyss; then, a heart-shaped body with randomly protruding ribs emerged, it was encased in some bedraggled armour. Lastly, horse-like legs hit the ground. It snarled at me with bloody teeth.

The monster looked hurt: it was leaning to one side as if to re-direct body-weight onto an undamged leg. I'm no expert in alien anatomy, but I guess that healthy monsters do not have cyan liquid spurting out of their legs. I uncapped the flare, and threw a red ball of light at the thing. It hissed and lunged into the void.

Bill snapped awake, choking on mucus. I explained what happened, but this time he did not lecture me on how crazy I am; instead, he said we better pack up and continue onwards. We walked until we reached a natural stairwell. We descended. It was about four fathoms deep.

It lead into a gaint opening. We walked around and what we saw chilled us to our bones. Ancient building, Mesoamerican and Roman architecture, filled the place. They all lay in ruin, and occasionally a mangled carcass of one of those monsters I saw lay outside the door. The armour they wore bore crests. Based on the pattern we reccognised after walking there for so long, the crest signified the families of the creatures, the same crest popped up most frequently around the same building, or in groups of corpses.

As we walked through the ruins, I hearld a rustling behind us, and when I turned around, the monster from before sprang at me from the darkness. I woke up with a sore head and throbbing stomach; I was lying in a metal room with cables and circuits running along the walls. When my vision focused, I saw a metal bar door. I limped towards it, taking in tough breaths.

I siezed the bars when I saw the horror on the other side: Bill was lying naked on an operating table, the monster standing beside him. There were pods with similar creatures lining the left wall, I shifted around to get a better look at the right; I felt my stomach churn when I saw the heap of dead, naked, mangled bodies sprawled in a giant heap. Tears welled up in my eyes. This is it, I thought. This is the end, we're gonna die.

The monster took a squirming bug out of a tube he took from beside a computer. The keyboard was attached to the wall and tilted down at an acute angle; the screen was also in the wall, and the desktop was thrice the size of a normal one, with holes and tubes and flashing butttons on it. The bug was dropped into Bill's mouth. I saw a bludge as the bug scurried down my friends esophagus, small intestine, large intestine. It stopped there, changed position and continued. Bill's penis swelled as a lump shot through his urethra. The bug shrivelled in the pool of blood it lay in.

The creature picked it up, put it back in the tube, and inserted the tube into the computer. The screen flickered to life:


 * Collected**


 * Cell Matter*

Mitochondria - 120g

Cytoplasm - 50mg

Nucleolus - 1


 * Bodily items*

Blood - 1.87l

Digestive acid - 6g

Spinal fluid - 2g

Sperm - 1g

These items were glowing green on the blue screen. Another tab popped up, this one had another list like the one I drew above. Only this time, some names were glowing red. The monster dragged the cursor to a button reading "Tranfer" and clicked it. Most icons on the second screen turned green accept one -- it had some abstract name that was not any earthly language.

The alien produced a syringe, and he extracted some pinkish fluid from himself. He fell over but manged to put the syringe into the computer. All the icons were green now. The desktop lurched violently, and a tube stuck into the desktop was filled with a yellow liquid.

The monster carried the liquid to one of the pods and pushed it into a slot. The liquid drained and air rushed out of the collapsing pod door. A monster fell out too, but it got up. The monster number one was now convulsing on the ground. The two aliens had the same crest embedded on their armor.

The pod monster kneeled down on its legs and rapped its knuckles on the other's head while he slowly died. The pod monster shrieked and launched itself at Bill. It teared at his flesh and muscles furiously; the motherfucker was in the biggest frenzy I ever saw.

The sight made me sick so I retreated into the shadows of my cell. I now sit here, flint in hand, carving my memoir into the medical kit container; it's the only thing I have to write on... It's ironic, really.