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“I want to see what it does.” Sazahk whacked Patrick’s hand away from him. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”
Tar hummed—the most he’d had to say on the Insects all day—and walked farther down the road to scope out their path. Sazahk pulled out his data tablet and recorded a few pictures and videos, which seemed remarkably reasonable for him. Next, he took out his data tablet’s stylus and reached for the Insect growth, which seemed insane and much more in line with what Fal’ran had been expecting.
Patrick made a strangled sound when Sazahk poked the swaying bristles, and they shivered away before lapping closer. They reached for Sazahk and wrapped around the tip of the stylus.
“Amazing.” Sazahk did not find the tiny tentacles as nauseating as Fal’ran. “The cilia are responsive, which isn’t really so odd. That’s often a primary function of cilia. But they seem almost curious. Thoughtful. I wonder where they’re sending their information…”
Without warning, Sazahk dug his fingers into the dirt around the Insect the growth’s edge and started digging up rocks and pebbles.
“Sazahk, seriously?” Bar’in hissed.
Sazahk dug deeper, exposing a dark gray tube descending into the ground, like a stem from which sprouted the hard, black growth with its shivering cilia now halfway up Sazahk’s stylus. “I just want to see where it goes.”
“It goes there.” Tar’s voice, as usual, caught them all by surprise, and Sazahk froze with his fingers still embedded in the dirt. Tar stood at the end of the street and pointed at something around the corner.
With a dreadful knot in the pit of his stomach, Fal’ran joined Tar and turned to see what he pointed at.
“Fuck.”
More Insect growths littered the ground, sparsely scattered near their feet, but clustering more densely farther down the road until they converged into a solid black mat. At the end of the block, the organic material spread up and along the dilapidated walls, spilling out like an oil slick from the inner city.
“How have we been missing this?” Fal’ran gaped at the spread of Insect infection over the walls and ground.
“Because we’ve been distracted.” Patrick took point, leading them closer. “Too busy fighting them off wherever they appear.”
“We don’t know how long it’s been here either.” Sazahk looked around with wide eyes and green flickering along his cheekbones, but he remained in the center of the formation and didn’t run off to touch everything. “We don’t know how fast this grows. This might be the work of months, or it might have been days.”
“Movement.” Bar’in’s sharp, soft word froze them in place. “Ahead. To the left. Top of the wall.”
Fal’ran flicked his eyes to the location but saw only the shivering cilia of the black creep lining the edge of the wall. “You sure?”
“Positive.” Bar’in shifted his back against Tar’s. “It wasn’t those creepy little tentacle things. It was something bigger.”
“There’s an open doorway to our right.” Fal’ran stepped in front of Sazahk and the qesh moved back to let Fal’ran stand between him and where Bar’in had seen movement. “Might give us some cover.”
“That doorway is covered in this black shit.” Patrick sidestepped a growth’s quivering tendrils. “We don’t know what happens if we touch it.”
“My stylus is fine,” Sazahk pointed out, and Bar’in scoffed.
“I’m not a stylus.”
“Well, what you are is still standing in the open.” Fal’ran shepherded Sazahk farther behind him and toward the door. “I think we risk it.”
“Shit, movement behind us.” Patrick swung his rifle around to face the direction they’d come from. “Fal’ran’s right. Everyone into cover. Tar, take Sazahk, Fal’ran clear it.”
Tar stepped into Fal’ran’s spot and Fal’ran skirted Sazahk to enter the open doorway. He stepped onto the creeping black infection for the first time. He’d expected it to give under his boot, like a hard covering over a spongy surface, but it didn’t. It was as stable as any slab of concrete.
He swept the space, checking his corners, ducking around fallen walls, and poking his muzzle into every opening he found. “Clear!”
His four teammates piled in after him, Patrick bringing up the rear and backing into the space with his gun trained on the street.
“Alright, everyone, this is exactly where we wanted to be.” Patrick spun around once he’d crossed the threshold and planted his back on the wall. The cilia around the door frame rippled away from him. “A tight, urban space, with good verticality. It doesn’t get better than this.”
“It even comes with good sightlines.” Bar’in dropped to the ground to pull his rifle scope from his pack.
Fal’ran barked a laugh when Bar’in’s sharp canines flashed. “They won’t know what hit ‘em.”
“I want to get up there.” Bar’in zipped his pack, slung it around his shoulders, and jerked his chin up at the remnants of the level above them. “I think it’ll hold me.”
