A Completed Work

This will read as the end of the story and truth be told, it is. However, it's completed in that I did what I set out to do. Warning: This story is not uplifting.


Jonathan watched through the port in the door as the oxygen flushed out into the vacuum of space. A white flash filled the hangar where the pod sat, fractions of a second before it jettisoned into the inky darkness. It spiraled, seeming to speed away at first, then drift more slowly the farther away it became. Small expulsions from exhaust ports along the sides turned the pod towards the red planet and gravity did the rest, pulling the small pod towards it's surface. He waited until it had moved past the limited field of vision granted by the port in the door, then turned and leaned back against it.

Beyond the door came the hum. At least they had not made him wait. His ears would not need to strain, searching silence for the inevitable. It had already come and soon would be knocking on the door. Still, he would not let them come in so easily. He smiled to himself as he crossed the room and ran a hand over the heavy welding he had done to seal the only door in. Then with a groan he staggered to the side, reaching to steady himself on a nearby console. His hand touched the eleven inch gash that stretched from his navel to his side and for a moment, his vision blurred. Blood had soaked nearly the length of his pant leg and he could feel his legs beginning to tremble. His eyes dropped to his hands and he realized how pale they had become. He was running on borrowed time now.

Summoning his waning strength, he crossed the room once more to another console, upon which sat the makeshift flamethrower. He hoisted the pack with a groan and winced as he maneuvered his arms through the straps, his vision blurring once more as pain shot through his side and a fresh trickle of blood leaked out.

The hum grew louder and now he could hear the clicks and scratches of their hands and feet on the floors of the corridor. He was the only one left on the ship and they could smell him. Feel him. Whatever sense it was they used, it had lead them to the only remaining life source. To him. Besides the lucky few in the pod that had jettisoned, everyone else was dead.

He felt a chill. Time was running from his wound. He checked the flame thrower, then reached into his pocket, withdrawing a crumpled packet of cigarettes. A faint glimmer of satisfaction played through him as he noticed there was one that had not been saturated in blood or broken in his pocket. He put it between his lips and ignited it with the pilot light of the thrower, just as the first assault on the door came. Shrieks could be heard now, the beasties on the other side frantically clawing and gnawing at the door. The steel began to creek and shift as the welding gave way and the doors began to push apart. Smoke filled his lungs and the nicotine found it's way into his blood stream for a final time.

The pain had dulled in his side and he felt strangely disconnected. Everything was beginning to feel so far away. He leveled the nozzle of the flame thrower at the door and smiled softly while tendrils of uninhaled smoke curled out from between his lips and cut trails of white through the air before dissipating.

" Oh Danny boy, the pipes...the pipes are calling..." he sang softly as he squeezed the trigger
briefly to test the thrower and was rewarded with a brief cloud of fire.

The doors had pushed apart several inches, allowing a dozen, finger-sized tendrils to slither in and adhere themselves to the doors. The hum was almost deafening now, broken only by the frenzied shrieks of frustration.

"...from glen to glen and down the...mountain....s...side..."

He watched on with glassy eyes as more tendrils forced their way in and began prying at the doors.

"...the summer's gone...and...all...the...ro..."

Fire spit from the charred nozzle of the flame thrower and engulfed the door for several seconds, spilling out into the hallway. The shrieks rose up over the hum and most of the tendrils retracted. Some curled and writhed momentarily before withering in the flames. He thought he could smell something...acrid... smoky...

" it's you, it's you who must go and I must bide."

They came in full strength, dozens upon dozens of tendrils flooding in, some several feet in length. They viciously grabbed at the door, some seeming to turn from fleshy tentacles into hardened talons to claw at the barrier. Another flash of fire, this one lasting several more seconds, brought a fresh chorus of infant-like wailing but failed to drive them back. Nothing would drive them back, but he would see they remembered the last few moments of his life.

" But come ye back-"

They came through just as everything began to turn white. With a soft cry he pulled the trigger for the last time, watching as a brilliant eruption of fire consumed the approaching host, it's mouths and tendrils reaching for him. There were only screams and as he drifted into an eternal sleep, he smiled.