General Emergency. Fortress under attack by three Zmij. Military personnel prepare to respond. Those not involved in the defense must immediately proceed to the security bunkers.
Her attention was immediately drawn to the word "Zmij," when a powerful and macabre roar echoed from the far end of the illuminated corridor. In the distance came the screams of soldiers, bursts of gunfire, the sound of breaking bones and torn flesh, and other noises Toria recognized all too well. Horrified, she stared toward the end of the corridor, which at that moment seemed almost like a path leading straight to hell. The more she stared into that seemingly endless hallway, her eyes wide with terror and still reddened from crying, the more a terrible shiver ran down her spine, almost as if claws were scratching along it, burning her with every inch.
She slowly stepped backward, gradually increasing the speed of her steps, though still trying to remain as quiet as possible.
She returned to the room and locked the door. There, she sat down behind it, remaining silent without making the slightest sound.
Suddenly, a deathly silence fell. It was almost as if sound itself had stopped propagating, as though Toria had been placed in a vacuum, isolated from the rest of the world. Even though her heart felt as if it were about to burst from her chest, and the veins in her temples throbbed so violently it almost hurt, all her attention was fixed on listening outside the door, even though it was the last thing she wanted to hear.
Meanwhile, the floor beneath the palm of her hand—pressed firmly against it with all five fingers spread—seemed to emit faint vibrations, as though she were resting her hand on a phone set to silent or on a stereo speaker. The sensation seemed to penetrate beneath her skin, shaking her from the inside and giving her a false sense of calm and sweetness.
"Uom..."
The sound echoed through the corridor. The air itself seemed to tremble, as if a tiny earthquake had just occurred. Toria was so focused on listening that she almost felt dizzy. She covered her mouth with her hand, unable to remain silent otherwise. A pure expression of terror was etched on her face, her gaze fixed downward.
Slowly, she lowered her hands from her mouth, the palm of her right hand damp with saliva from covering it, while tears began flowing again, dripping one by one onto her knees and staining her jeans.
She clasped her hands together and raised them to her lips, pressing them against them before lightly grinding her teeth. She shut her eyes tightly, even as the tears continued to slide down her cheeks.
"Our Father... who art in heaven... hallowed be thy name..." Her voice was low, faint, and dry. It was as though she were forcing herself not to scream. Small sobs escaped her, more like hoarse little croaks—"chk... chk"—overpowered by the heavy, almost metallic footsteps growing louder and louder. They did not sound like the steps of two legs; the rhythm between each step was far too short to belong to a biped. Instead, there were sharp screeching noises produced by unnatural appendages, and as they drew closer to Toria they sounded almost like agonizing screams. The only thing she could compare them to were the cries of a newborn, though she had never truly heard one before.
"Holy Mary... Mother of God... pray for us sinners..."
Suddenly, heavy thuds sounded beyond the door, accompanied by horrifying grunts that resembled the gurgling of a sink drain, only deeper and amplified by the demonic echo of the creature.
Toria fell silent, her gaze fixed helplessly on the large, dark, tentacled shadow projected by the small window above the door.
At first, the creature seemed to scratch the door gently—just enough to drive the girl insane—as she almost felt those claws against her own body, sliding slowly down her back, splitting it in two like the cut of a chainsaw.
The girl began to tremble so violently that it seemed as if she were about to suffer a severe epileptic seizure. Her heart felt as if it were rising into her throat, and the urge to vomit became stronger and stronger.
"Kill me... I want to die now..." she whispered, curled up behind the door, covering her ears with her hands to block out the constant grunts and scratching, sobbing harder than she ever had in her entire life.
***
"Toria!" Victor shouted several times, finding himself in the hospital wing of the base, in a rather long and completely deserted corridor where the only things present were the doors of several patient rooms, illuminated by the usual white lights fixed to the ceiling, which reflected off the polished floor.
He had already searched through a large part of the base. By now he was so exhausted that, in order not to stop running, he had begun to limp forward quickly, using what little strength he still had left to remain on his feet.
There was no one else around anymore. The only thing keeping the boy company was the repeating alarm, which cut through the macabre silence inhabiting the chaotic and disordered environment that had been abandoned all at once, without warning. The floor was littered with scattered pieces of paper, motionless and almost pressed flat against it. The various doors to his left were almost all open; some were half-open in a completely random way, as if they had adjusted themselves, pushed by the small amount of force that had remained after being shoved during the evacuation.
Victor kept walking, inspecting every single room he came across, pushing open with his right hand those that were only half-closed. He continued opening them one after another with the same frenzy and the same terrified expression, as if he expected to find brutally massacred corpses.
"Where are you...?" he kept saying every time he opened a door.
At the fifteenth one, he stopped.
"Oh shit!"
A scream of terror erupted at the far end of the corridor, followed by bursts of gunfire. What truly terrified the boy, however, was the roar that came afterward—macabre, mixed with the sounds of tearing flesh and violent, relentless butchery.
Another roar followed, similar to the sound of a rusty trombone, intensified by small clicking noises repeated over and over, gradually rising in pitch and echoing more and more sharply.
The boy did not seem willing to pick up his pace. He remained stiff for a few moments, staring toward the end of the corridor, wondering above all whether that thing might somehow have heard him.
He seemed ready to run when, hearing those multiple, vaguely metallic footsteps moving away, he tried to calm himself down, though not without difficulty.
After a few seconds, he let out a deep and relieving sigh, releasing the stress that had built up inside him as he gently closed his eyes.
Only moments later, just as he was about to turn around, the aggressive sounds of scratching—shrill noises similar to wails—once again drew the boy's attention.
What if someone is there...? Victor thought almost instinctively. What if it's Toria...?!
He had already started walking again, nearly reaching the end of the corridor, where the sound of scratching and footsteps was growing louder and more terrible by the second.