Phobian Labs Chapter One

The four-man fire team, led by a fifth member, made their way in an arrow formation towards the foreboding complex that stretched out in front of them. It was like a small metallic mountain amongst the endless sloping sand dunes, and it was now roughly more than a football field away. The ground was filled with the orange and reddish-brown colour of granular sand, though, instead of the much preferred and slightly trampled bright and vibrant green grass, or the usual Astro-Turf some fields had. With the environmental factors that made the trek towards the sun-reflecting shelter all the more arduous, the small squad couldn't have been more ecstatic. They had been on guard ever since they had set down about a mile away, scanning the surrounding dunes for whatever may have been lurking within them, burrowed away from their ever vigilant, yet weary, eyes. As hard as it was for them to spot whatever may or may not have been sneaking around them in the desolate, and as of recent events, derelict desert and the base that resided within it, they stood out themselves. They were visible to their seemingly invisible, and altogether most likely non-existent, enemies like a group of rugged extremists with their dull black armor and other military attire against the backdrop of the ocean of sand they tread upon. The "water" of this particular ocean was kicked up by gusts of wind every now and then, smashing into the visitors and cascading them with the fine particulate as they continued onwards. It was not a way to be very conspicuous. In fact, it had been a very terribly ill-conceived idea to have them walk a mile from their LZ, but that was the brainless decision the brass had made during the mission briefing shortly before they had touched down. But to call whatever the hell they went through a briefing was genuinely insulting to those who actually gave briefings.

They had been told, while enroute onboard the chopper, that the area was contaminated and they would be considered infected with whatever hazard, be it biological or God knew whatever else, had so suddenly seized the compound and the area within a mile radius from it. The soldiers had not been very happy to have found that out as they were being relocated from their previous assignments. Two of the team's men had been forced onboard by the pilot and co-pilot on their separate occurrences. No, they were not happy, not in the least. Not having enough time to head back to base for a proper debriefing shook up all of them equally, as it was very unexpected and most unprofessional at the same time. But that was the oath they all took when they agreed to serve as on-call M-Sec for the compound a year prior. Sometimes life was like that, though. Out of the pan and into the oven, as the saying goes. Quite literally, too, as the heat was reaching over a hundred degrees easily. At least that's what it seemed like.

Despite their situation, they still had a job to do. They were walking cautiously as to make sure to either evade or tear down any hostiles encountered with their M27s before they could do any serious damage to the irritated professionals. Despite the setbacks that challenged them to keep their wits about themselves, they quickly closed the distance, all the while keeping wary glances on all of their surroundings. They shifted their formation suddenly into that of a circle, so two men were facing backwards, their backs to the complex and the other three men. It was as if they were expecting the desert hills themselves to come alive and engulf them whole. For all they knew, that was a very real possibility. They hadn't received news on what type of technology or R&D the good ol' lab had been cooking up out in this hellhole, but they were going to get a first hand looksee as they surveyed the area. Sweat fell from their foreheads constantly like beer from a broken and unfixable tap, every little bead taking with it some of its owner's precious water supply away drop by drop. They were getting more and more dehydrated by the second and their mission hadn't even technically started yet. At the rate they were losing precious bodily fluids they were sure to grow weaker, and without any water on hand they prayed that the research facility still had some working pumps and filters. They at least hoped that they would be able to get them up and running if they weren't, or else they were likely to die out in the dust bowl they were tossed into that was mixed with an oversized petri dish in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

Fuel had been low on the chopper when it had picked them up for transport. That meant that both the pilot and co-pilot had been yanked out from whatever area they had been involved in for the emergency situation that sprang upon Delta Site of the Phobian Experimental Research and Development Complex. Whatever happened there...here...had happened quickly. Not that it was so much quickly as it was abruptly. It was as if it, whatever "it" seemed to signify, had a chance to coordinate its attack and then one day, that day of course being today, acted upon it with cunning and lethal intelligence. Not a single soldier guessed it was accidental. They all agreed that everything had a purpose out here. That was why they were there presently. Or rather, would be there...shortly.

The well-built man on the left up front felt a few droplets of his sweat fall onto his nose, causing it to itch uncontrollably. He gave a short snarl that tapered off as he lifted his left hand and rubbed at the irritation in annoyance. He then ran the fingers on that hand through his short, black and greasy hair in an attempt to stop more of the excretion from making its way down his face. He regripped his M27 with his now wet hand, pressing even harder on the stock as he wedged it up tight against his shoulder. He fumbled with his hand position for a few strides before finally wrestling it to a somewhat manageable position where his gun was no longer sliding out of his grip. The whole stunt hadn't gone unnoticed, and others of his party were eager to comment on his antics with friendly smiles.

"Easy Vin," a young and sarcastic male voice called out from his back right.

"Just hot, ya know Rey? This is bullshit we don't even-" Vin went to complain formally but was quickly cutoff by a second voice to his back right that was slightly closer.

"Can it," The voice said simply. It was strict, but spoke from experience and with a respectable and authoritative tone. "Wait until we get in."

"Don't sweat it," the man to Vin's right said with a nervous laugh. Vin shot the man, Drake, an annoyed look but soon calmed himself, slightly, and his posture recovered. He exhaled and shook his head, droplets of tainted water landing with a slight sizzling sound on the sand underneath him. The sound wasn't audible for any of the five men to hear. Neither was the slowly shifting sand off to the party's right. They were silent as they approached Delta Site. The compound was definitely a far cry from a small and modest one. Even at the distance they were from it, the main building in front seemed to be a similar height to a five-story building. Sure, it was definitely not the tallest building ever, but the very fact that it was the only structure around for hundreds of miles in the desert made it seem larger to them. The garage entrance to the right of the main hub was their check point, as the building itself had no doors that entered into it. A wall of metal glinted at them as it continued to reflect the sun's light. It stood two stories high before it segued into a gigantic bulbous, squat cylinder that must have been a hundred or so yards in width. Black panels prevented them from seeing the structure's interior, however. They didn't care, as they would get a first hand look at what was inside it anyways.

From this main hub, two tunnel-like halls branched off to the left and the right. The left portion was an extremely long hallway - probably around two or three hundred yards - that had large glass windows that seemed to replace all other building materials along its length. They seemed to be the entire height of the tunnel, allowing for views of the front of the compound and the middle, or courtyard, behind it. The windowed passage led to a rusty colored building that looked much like a large brick factory to them. Smoke stacks stuck out of the top like thick fingers and billowed black smoke into the air. It appeared as a miniature volcanic eruption, but the contents of the air was not ash. Their briefing had at least covered that portion quite well.

"We should probably focus on stopping that ASAP," Reynolds grumbled as he took short and rapid breaths. He wiped his forehead clear with his left hand, made a pained expression and then proceeded to rub his left eye.

"Noted," the leader responded as the group kept up their steady crawl towards the complex, nearing the garage by the second.

"What do you think caused that?" Drake asked to no one in particular.

There was silence and then Sarge spoke again, "No idea."

Their attention drifted then towards the tunnel branching off to the right, which was similar in design to the hallway on the left. It was much shorter, however, being only about a quarter of its length. It ran right and then turned away from them to run parallel both to the building on the opposite side and their current trajectory. It then connected to a building that was larger in all three dimensions than the brick factory. The men knew the schematics fairly well and remembered the rest of the complex, including the area that both buildings connected to behind them. That compound was their true main objective. That was where the security detail hung out most. That was where the high tech labs were located, where the pencil-pushing rejects for scientists conducted illegal studies that were deemed unconstitutional or amoral. And now they needed to aid in whatever problems the idiots tangled themselves up in. The men knew enough than to complain or even show any signs of unease of their current and future objectives, as they were disciplined by their SOs and themselves on a second by second basis, Vin's slight outburst a rare exception. In this particular moment, however, even their leader was ready to voice his own opinions to the brass. The place was simply massive, and the chance they had of accomplishing their goals of clearing out the place and a Search and Rescue mission were quickly depleting to nothing with every bead of sweat they lost. They all knew they would need hydration if they wanted a snowball's chance in Hell to get any of their shit done at this point. They finally arrived at their first checkpoint, and they loosened their tight postures slightly to allow themselves some small measure of relief.

"Okay Tom, do your thing," the commanding voice of Sarge ordered as the team stared silently at the blast door now in front of them. It was huge, larger than two men, probably as large as three total. It was plenty wide enough for it to accommodate two Humvees side by side at a time, that was if the drivers wanted to drag race. It was also made from titanium, and was roughly a foot thick. If the power ever went out, whoever wanted to get in would need a demo team to punch a hole through it if no one bothered noticing them and buzzing them in. That reminded Sarge once again of their current predicament.

"But make it snappy," another gruff voice called out from behind the first one.

"Can it Reynolds," the first voice said once again in its commanding tone, though there seemed to be more annoyance this time. There was a moment of silence and the men felt the air almost vibrate and hum strangely as they heard how quiet it was. There wasn't much wind now either, and that made the tension that much more real and all together eerie as they scanned behind them, constantly watching for a threat to present itself. The voice once again spoke, this time it was with less authority but with understanding. "Just do your best, private."

Tom took in a deep breath and wiped his forehead with his black armored arm. He exhaled as he shifted his weight forward on to his left leg. He slung his M27 over his right shoulder and advanced towards the eighteen foot door in a couple of steps. The rest of the men followed. Two of them spread out and took up positions on either side of him with their backs against the wall, one of them being Sarge himself. The other two hung back and took their positions out from the others, making sure to continuously sweep the area for hostiles.

"I don't know if this'll work or not, sir. Electronics are still acting weird." Tom got to his knees and withdrew a small device inside a rugged case along with a cable. He shook his head and blinked several times in an attempt to focus at the task at hand, which was getting into the complex of course. He blinked and focused on one part of their main objective at a time. He felt around the keypad and his fingers came across a small slit in the casing on the bottom. He dug under it and pulled it out of the unit until he couldn't pull it down anymore. He undid the rubber plug in it and inserted one end of the cable into the slot that the rubber had been covering up.

"As I said before, just do your best, private," Sarge answered back cool and level-headed once again. He then shifted his gaze to another member away from the complex and to his right. "You got that code yet Drake?"

Drake cracked his neck to his right and grunted as there was an audible crackling sound. "No, sir." His voice was less weathered but added a thick Boston accent to it that seemed to be capable of an equal communication level. He had his rifle in his right hand pointing down at the sand while he looked at his tablet in his other one, specifically at the flashing icon of a satellite dish with a red slash through it on the top right corner. "Still don't have a decent signal."

"Damnit," Sarge muttered as a slight gust of wind stirred up some of the sand from the ground and whipped it up into its current, cascading it onto them. The soldier turned to the opposite direction, closed his eyes and held his crimson red bandana over his mouth and nose. The rest of the five man team had done the same, with Tom being a little late on the draw. He had inserted the other end of the cable into the portable device and had opened it up and turned the pager-like gadget on as it buffeted him. He started hacking into his blue colored cloth as he used it as a filter and closed his eyes. He kept them so until the wind died down about eight seconds later.

"Stay sharp. We don't want any fuckers sneaking up on us. Bad enough we're here already."

There was a small exclamation of "Yes sir" as the three other armed men on guard answered back in unison. Tom wiped the remaining sand from his eyes and the display of the device before resuming his work once again. The other men under orders held their weapons ready as they scanned the sand for any unknowns walking amongst them. Sarge grimaced and prayed that the definition of "unknowns" wasn't something out of a horror movie either. He never liked this place. The atmosphere always gave him the creeps and sent chills racing up and down his spine despite all of the heat.

Drake, rifle and tablet still in hand, glanced at the nine-inch device again and saw the same icon still flashing. "Still nothin' Sarge," he said with his thick Boston accent as he shook his head. His science officer badge glinted in the sunlight, flashing the leader of the pack suddenly and blinding him momentarily in the process.

"Agghh! Take that damn thing off, Drake! Fuck! Do you want them to see us?" The leader grunted and shook his head as he glanced over his left shoulder back towards PFC Tom.

Drake, completely oblivious to the fact that his badge was still on, made quick work. He slung his rifle over his right shoulder and then took the badge off, sliding it into his front pocket on the left side of his chest. He once again had his rifle drawn and ready to fire should the need arise.

"I'll take point if you find a signal. We really don't have all damn day here." the leader said just a little agitated. He glanced up at the sky as he spoke and saw the sun was practically right over them. "We have about six hours at the most to accomplish our main and secondary objectives and be out of here."

Drake nodded and then slung his rifle once more over his shoulder. Taking the tablet in both hands he began to walk around to find a satellite connection that would last. 'Military satellites my ass,' Sarge thought as he ground his teeth together. Why was everything always so damn difficult with him?

"I have the first two symbols sir," Tom said casually as he glanced over his left shoulder towards Sarge. "Only three left, then I'll be able to use them for the next stage."

Sarge gazed into the horizon for a moment as he made a quick computation in his head. At thirty-eight seconds for two symbols, that was nineteen seconds per symbol. He was happy to know that, but he quickly grew annoyed. The codes changed at the start of every day and then every hour on the hour. That wasn't helpful for an ETA when military grade satellites were about as helpful as the shadow of a stick jutting straight out of the sand. Needless to say, he trusted the shadow of a stick in the sand more than anything right now. 'Damn, I'm thirsty.' Sarge let out a cough, closed his eyes and sighed. It did relieve some of the tension anyways. "What time is it?"

Vin glanced down at his watch, cleared his own throat and then responded with his rough and dry voice. "Three-o-clock, sir."

Sarge scrunched his face into a visage of hatred and annoyance as he continued scanning for any sign of life in the desert. He hoped they wouldn't need to restart the process over again. Sarge was broke out of his trance when he heard Reynolds holler suddenly.

"Hey! What the fuck's that?" Reynolds pointed his rifle at a dune that shifted several hundred feet in front of him directly in his line of sight. Everyone stared at the shifting mound, even Tom. Everybody but him had their rifles drawn and aimed at the spot immediately, their training not failing them yet. He felt helpless, though, as he stared out at the tanned landscape, his mind focusing on one word and one word only.

'Shit, shit, shit!' he thought without thinking. It kept repeating through his head like some guided meditation mantra. He wished this was the byproduct of a guided meditation session gone wrong.

"Hell if I know," Vin responded as he clenched his jaw and pressed his stock against his shoulder as tight as he possibly could.

"Steady, don't do anything," Sarge said as he cautiously inched his way forwards to get between Reynolds and Drake. "Keep going on those codes, Private. We need that door open pronto," Sarge stated plainly, his pitch lowered and wavered slightly.

Tom turned back around, noticing that the third and fourth symbol had been loaded. The fifth was yet to be completed. Drake had his rifle drawn, but it was next to impossible for him to truly aim and hold the tablet at the same time. The result was his rifle draped over his left forearm Clint Eastwood style like in "The Good, The Bad and The Ugly". The gun wasn't that heavy, but it was taxing on his dehydrated body. He snarled as he tried, and failed, to glance at the tablet to see if he had a signal yet.

He did. A single green bar glowed on the screen to indicate that a weak connection was established, no doubt with the help of the compound's WiFi. The blast door composed of thick metal had most likely been responsible for the low signal, but that was the way it was supposed to be. That was a system that was set in place so that only the people with the correct credentials would be able to more easily enter the compound when no one was available on the other side. In this particular case, however, there was no one meeting them on the other side. Mostly, because that would have been too easy now that they had just been spotted by some unknown lurking horror just outside their safe haven. And of course it was probably something from some goofy kid's nightmare. 'Fuck military tech to Hell,' Sarge thought as he strained his eyes scanning for a target. This had to be the day when he was reduced to using something as primitive as Wi-Fi to get into a top secret military research complex.

"Fifth symbol cracked. I just need that code please," Tom said, his voice cracking slightly as his nerves got the better of him. He saw the device screen clear suddenly, followed by the symbols' hexadecimal equivalent load onto it as a nine character string.

"Enter one...zero...zero...one...one...Alpha...Alpha...one...Fox...zero...zero...one," Sarge repeated from memory. "We could really use that -"

He was cutoff suddenly as Drake intervened, "Ramp, Tango, Yahtzee, Zebra, Zero, Zero, One, Fox..." There was more to it than that but that was when all hell broke loose.

A thunderous roar emanated from the moving sand before them as a piece of mass much larger and wider than a human detached from it and lumbered towards them. They couldn't tell what it was and they didn't care, as they knew it wasn't human or good in any way, shape or form. They were all sure it posed some type of immediate threat to them and so had no sympathy in what followed. Part of their objective was about to become accomplished as everyone but Tom opened fire on the thing that slithered forwards far too quickly for anyone's comfort. Whatever the horror was, it was not resistant to the armor piercing ammunition that the active security team unleashed upon it. Thick globs of dark blue with swirls of grey sprayed out from the thing's front, and the men continued to pepper it with free shots as it roared in a thunderous crackling noise mixed with a garbled squeal. In a swift move it turned to its right and prepared to make an escape from the unforeseen onslaught that had so suddenly presented itself to the creature. It exposed more of its body as it did so, and bullets sank into the softer tissue on its left side. The men could tell, or at the very least guess, at its texture as the goo spilled out of it in thick ropes that quenched the bright sand around it, staining it in dark blotches that connected to each other in three pools underneath it.

It roared again, this time in a higher pitch. Sarge took the opportunity to advance towards the thing, blasting larger holes into it until it screeched and rolled to the ground away from him. He steadied his elevated heartbeat, which had gotten higher than he had hoped, as he kept the rifle aimed at its side that still leaked the goo from its insides onto the sand.

"Watch it," he ordered without hesitating in the slightest as he worked his way to the right of the creature towards its rear. He wasn't going to kick at it or anything stupid like that. That would just be dumb. The liquid, which he assumed was blood, was hissing and steaming as it soaked the sand under and around the thing.

"The fuck is that thing?!" Vin called out as he shook with terror mixed with adrenaline.

Sarge released the spent clip and replaced it with a fresh one from an open pouch on his belt as the soft thud of the first indicated it had hit the soft sand by his feet. He kept his rifle aimed at the...what? He didn't know what it was. It looked like some animal dipped in a dark purple tar. Was that a...a bison?

'Just what the fuck were they doing here?' he thought as he inched closer. 'What is Phobian Labs up to these days?' he thought as the black puddles suddenly began to quiver.