H λ L F - L I F E: Bishop's War✔️

CHλPTER 04: Not Alone

Eric stood atop the staircase and surveyed the area beyond.

There really wasn't much to see. Just a little area for sitting and chatting, probably for overflow in terms of customers for the places below. The handful of chairs and tables to the left were empty and offered him nothing of value. The way to the right was his only option if he wanted to progress forward, as far as he could tell. There was a structure almost totally blocking the way, and as Eric finished his surveillance, he saw that it was, in fact, completely blocking the way. If he wanted to move on, he had to go through the doorway he was now facing, because the concrete pathway to the right of the small building had collapsed.

The way ahead was not at all appealing.

He knew the place for what it was, remembering passing through it and having a much different view of it then: an arcade. He'd come here a few times, because arcades kicked ass. It was a relatively small room with about two dozen cabinets lined up, their quarter meters turned off so you could play as long as you wanted. He'd seen Area 51 in there, and had just about beaten it once. It had been a fun and welcoming place.

Now, though?

Now it looked like something out of a horror movie. The only light coming from inside the room originated from the madly flickering screens of broken arcade cabinets. From what he remembered, he should be able to just walk straight through it, dead on to the opposite door. There was a natural aisle between two lengths of cabinets. But in that broken, chaotic light, he thought he could see a figure lurking inside.

He decided to call out, but his words died in his throat as he continued staring at the silhouette. Something was just...wrong with it. Something about the way it was moving. Eric roused himself, tried to shake off the anxiety and apprehension. He'd seen battle fatigue before, seen guys acting pretty weird in combat situations before, everything ranging from goofy to downright creepy. Wasn't their fault.

People's brains reacted on a spectrum to disaster situations.

"Hello! My name is Eric Bishop, I'm with Security! Are you injured?" he called.

The figure ceased its uncertain peregrinations between the rows of cabinets, and he heard a low groan. That was definitely not the response he was hoping for, because it didn't sound like a groan of pain. It sounded like...

He didn't know what the hell it sounded like, beyond dangerous.

His combat instincts were screaming at him again, and he decided to listen to them. Whatever it was, it was coming towards him now with a shuffling gait. And it cut loose with another one of those groans, clearer now, and more haunting.

"What the hell is this?" Eric whispered, hefting the pipe wrench again.

Then he had his answer.

It stepped out into the pallid light of the area beyond, and he saw it in painfully clear detail. It was a fellow security guard, and he immediately knew that he was looking at the end result of what would have happened if that little thing he'd killed earlier had successfully hugged his face. And that snapped a thought into his mind.

That's what it reminded him of!

The goddamned facehuggers from the Alien movies!

It was utterly horrifying. The body had mutated. The arms were covered in blood and its fingers had elongated, thinned out, turned into red, bloody claws. Eric swallowed as the thing staggered for him, reaching, groaning.

It sounded like a damned zombie.

"Oh God..." he moaned in response, hefting the pipe.

Could he save the man beneath the monster? Or was it too late? Judging by the disgusting mutations to the body, he figured it was far too late. But maybe if he could just get that thing off of the poor bastard's face...