The SCP Experience - Only the Fearless One Will Save Us All (Part 1) | SCP-6666

Episode Date: November 4, 2024

SCP Foundation ESOTERIC class object, SCP-6666 This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-6666 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience Author: Matt Doggett * * * DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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The conditions apply. It's never too early to plan your summer story in Europe with WestJet, from rolling countryside to cobblestone streets. Begin your next chapter. Book your seat at westjet.com or call your travel agent. WestJet, where your story takes off. It's hotter than a rat orgy in an electric blanket in here. Neil Perkins said, raising his voice over the roar of the helicopter rotors.

You would think that's hot, you sick bastard. Viralima said. waggling her eyebrows at Perkins. Perkins took the bait, leaning over to me to leer at Lemus with lecherous green eyes. There's nothing hotter than a rat orgy. You ever seen one? Ooh, boy, does he get the blood flowing.

The helicopter banked, causing Perkins to fall into me. I bucked him off. Whoa, sorry, Slaughter, Perkins said. Didn't mean to get into your personal space. You can sit on my lap if you want, I said, making a joke out of my discomfort. But all this talk about rat sex has me a little excited. Vera and Perkins laughed.

Across for me, Manny Cantu and Cedricin Madrigal smiled and shook their heads. The rest of our squad sat near the back of the chopper, having their own conversations, joking around, trying to one up each other. Sergeant Fong sat among them, staring out one of the porthole windows at the thick jungle canopy below. Normally, Fong was one to come out on top as far as sick jokes. But it seemed he wasn't in a joking mood. Knowing that he'd been the only one briefed on our mission didn't bode well for us. One reason our Asian American sergeant was so good at one-upping the rest of us was because of his unreadable face.

I never agreed to play poker with the guy because he always looked like a slab of stone sitting there at the card table, copper eyes taking in everything and revealing nothing. Now, his normally stoic demeanor was cracked with fear. Or maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe it was a form of wishful thinking, because I didn't have the normal pre-mission jitters, which was strange. While Perkins and Lemus kept at it, I shifted in my seat and looked out the window at the jungle below.

We were all dressed ready for battle, sweating under our gear in the humid air. We held our rifles between our legs and wore our arms. our backbacks and helmets and vests. All Sarge had told us when we lifted off from the carrier somewhere in the Southern Atlantic was to be ready for anything. Hey, Sarge, Cantu called. How come we're going to the jungle,

but we're not wearing jungle BDUs? This question broke Fong out of his trance, and he glanced at Cantu, whose earnest face and perpetual smile had turned him into the squad's little brother. The one everyone gave a hard time, but would protect with their lives with no hesitation. You'll see, Kantu.

Fong called back. Just calm your ass down over there, will you? Hey, I'm calm, Kantu said. I'm cool as a fucking cucumber. As soon as the words left his mouth, the helicopter dove nose first toward the canopy below. Some kind of emergency alarm erupted from the cockpit, and all my squad mates stiffened in fear.

Everyone but me, anyway. I experienced an adrenalized glee as I glanced around the cabin at the expressions of fear on my squadmate's faces. Time seemed as slow as my mind lurched with impossible speed toward possible outcomes. I'd always figured I would die on a mission, fighting an unlikable lizard, a freaky monster, or a cult, but a helicopter crash would do just as well. Anything was better than a slow, torturous death in a hospital bed. I thought briefly of what a shame it would be for my squad mates to die, but there was nothing I could do about it.

I was no pilot. The helicopter hurtled toward the jungle, the canopy getting so close I could tell individual leaves apart. With one hand, I kept hold of my rifle. With the other, I grabbed Perkins by the top of his vest, pulled his face toward my own, and I screamed, laughed at him. Even as I was doing it, some part of me wondered why. But I could not stop myself.

The helicopter suddenly straightened out, but it wasn't over. We were still going down, just not as fast, and not nose first. The tale started whipping back and forth as the pilot's voice came over the intercom system. Prepare for an impact. I still had hold of Perkins, and my scream laugh had turned into a full-fledged cackle, sounding foreign even to my own ears. The forest canopy rose to meet us. The helicopter smashed into it belly first, producing a cacophony of snapping branches and scraping metal.

The aircraft jerked as the tail rotor hit a tree. Then the helicopter tilted sideways, rotors snapping through tree branches as it fell. Had we not all been strapped in, we would have been thrown all over the cabin. As it was, we could do nothing but hold tight to our harnesses as the helicopter jerked and twisted its way down through the trees toward the jungle floor. Window shattered, people screamed. The helicopter tilted back the other way, then it nosed down a moment before we struck the ground. All of us were jerked sideways with the impact,

but there was no time to ruminate on any injuries because the tail then fell, the rear of the aircraft smashing unevenly into the ground. My crazed laughter only died down when I realized by the looks on my squad mate's faces that I was still doing it. Mani Cantu and Sampi, Cedric Madrigal across the way glanced warily at me, disgust, flitting across their faces.

Holy shit, I said, feeling as if I had to fill the silence I'd recently created by ceasing my laughter. Everyone okay? Somebody help me! Fong said from the back of the aircraft. I leaned forward so I could see past Limas and looked that way. A branch had come through a window and sliced open Sean Culver's throat. He and Fong both had their hands around the wound. But Culver's shirt was dark with blood and his face was pale. Everyone started moving, unstrapping themselves from their seats and getting their basic first aid kits from their packs.

Thinking that they had Culver under control, I got up and moved to the cockpit door, pulling it open and looking at the two pilots. Jesus, I said. The pilot in the right-hand seat was dead, a large branch sticking through the broken windshield and into his chest. The co-pilot on my left was still alive, but he'd hit his head somehow and was delirious. Can you walk? I asked him. He just looked up at me with swimming eyes and said,

What happened? Where are you hurt? I asked. I could see an abrasion on his head where he'd struck something, but that was it. My head, he said after a moment. And my leg. I shifted, stepping as far into the crumpled cockpit as I could. The guy's love. was broken all right. Some metal had smashed inward and pinned his left lower leg against his seat, breaking it in the process. It didn't look too good. Shit, I thought. There was no way we could hike out of here and get to an ex-filled place. It would be nearly impossible for anyone to pick us up in the middle of this thick jungle. Just sit tight, I said. Don't try to move yet. We'll get you sorted soon.

I peered out the windshield at the jungle. My eyes glancing over the strange roots that coated the jungle floor. They were the color and texture of old concrete, which was strange, but I didn't think much more of it. The helicopter shifted again from our movement. I turned around to see that they had Culver on the floor, working to slow the bleeding. It didn't look promising. My jaw clenched as I watched them work on young Culver. I liked the guy. I didn't want him to die. Then again, there wasn't much I could do about it now. The helicopter shifted again, a part of the back ceiling crushing down a few inches. All eyes shifted to that area.

It was as if a tree or a large branch had fallen onto the aircraft, but I hadn't heard any impact. Fong looked up at the crushed-in portion, which was almost directly over him in Culver. Carrington, Torado, and Schuster. Go outside and see what the hell that was. Create a perimeter. Lemus, Radio for Health. Fong tossed Lemus the radio as the three moved to the door. I watched them open it and step out among the strange concrete-looking roots that snaked all over the ground. Lemus spoke into the radio, drawing my attention.

A moment later, I whipped my head back to the door as someone shouted from outside. At the same instant, the ceiling of the helicopter above Fong and Culver collapsed more, as if something were crushing it from the outside. The roof over my head collapsed enough to hit my helmet. I ducked down and hustled the two steps to the door, peering out to see what was causing the damage. Before I could twist to look along the fuselage, I saw Carrington standing perfectly still about 10 yards from the helicopter. His pale face held patches of bright red as he stared down at his legs in terror. Movement to my right caught my eye, and I looked that way just in time to see Tarado being pulled into the forest floor by a gray roof.

wrapped around his shoulder. He had his hands up, fingers scrabbling and grabbing other nearby routes for purchase as he shouted for help. His voice weren't muffled as his head was pulled under the rich loam, but his arms were still visible, flailing wildly. Help him! I shouted at Carrington, who stood mere feet away.

All the while, I was still aware the helicopter was collapsing. Thinking that was the bigger problem, I looked down the side of the fuselage, seeing a massive gray root squeezing the rear of, of the aircraft, which continued to crunch inward with the sound of rending metal and breaking glass. Another route to my left, over the cockpit, was doing the same. I brought my rifle up and aimed at the root, snaking up over the cockpit, sliding the safety off with my thumb. I fired once to see what it would do. A hole appeared in the root. A dark, syrupy sludge oozed out,

but the root continued constricting. I fired again and again, but it only only was a little bit only seemed to make the thing constrict faster. Everyone get out! I shouted, turning back and ducking through the slowly crumpling cockpit door. Do what he says! Bomb called from behind me. The exodus began. We gotta move you, buddy, I said to the co-pilot.

My leg. The ceiling collapsed more. Things were getting tight. He exhaled a shaky breath and nodded. Fuck. Okay. He reached down and gripped his leg on either side of the brake. I heard him grunt in pain at the leg. I heard him grunt in pain.

the touch. This wasn't going to be good. I let my rifle hang from its strap and grabbed him by the shirt with both hands. Say when? He yanked on his leg, trying to pull it out from the vice it was caught in. I pulled on his shirt as well, yanking hard, in time to be gentle. He screamed, his lower leg folding in half toward us. Blood poured out of the nasty wound, and I thought I could hear bones snapping over the sound of metal crunching down. Then he was free, and I I pulled him backward out of the cockpit, then dragged him outside. People were shouting outside, but I had no time to wonder why. I needed to get the co-pilot free of the wreckage.

A route on the ground jostled his shattered leg as I pulled him away, causing him to scream even louder. I put him down as the two huge routes around the helicopter crushed their respective sections so small that they would have killed anyone left inside. In the tumult outside, one voice rose above the rest, and I realized it belonged to Carrington, the one who'd refused to move to help Torado. He was shouting for people to stay still, to stop moving. Leaving the co-pilot writhing on the ground amid the seemingly stationary routes,

I turned to look at the shouting man. What I saw should have terrified me. It should have sent my heart racing in my throat constricting. But it didn't. Worse, a sense of giddy excitement. arose in its place. Half my squad mates had roots wrapped around their legs.

Fong and Culver were the nearest. Fong had a strange, gray root wrapped around each ankle, but Culver, who was unconscious or dead, had been left alone. Fong was bent over, trying to pry the roots off his ankles. It wasn't working.

He was being pulled down, fighting the whole way. Stop moving! Garrington shouted. Stop! They don't get you if you don't move. I felt something on my right foot. When I looked down, I saw a root there,

twisting up out of the loam like a blind snake, feeling its way up my boot. I froze, only turning my head to look at the co-pilot. It was now writhing even more violently because several roots were wrapped around him, dragging him slowly into the jungle floor. Stop moving! I hissed at him,

but he was in too much pain and too panic to pay any attention to me. I looked down at the root. route that had come up near my right foot and saw that it was no longer moving. It simply rested across my right boot. I knew that if I moved, it would too, and it would pull me under, just like Torado, just like the co-pilot. Most of my other squadmates had taken the advice and were now frozen in place. Some of them had roots snaking up to their waists, but since they weren't moving, they were safe, at least for the moment. But Fong was still fighting.

His panic, getting the better of him. He was going down quietly, though, with just a grunt here and there. He didn't ask for help, didn't even look toward any of us. It was as if he didn't even see us. Several people called for him to stop moving. Finally, when he was chest deep in the loam, he ceased all movement. It didn't help. He was pulled under, finally releasing a savage scream right before his head disappeared.

Glancing up, I met Perkins's gaze. We shared a haunted look before his eyes shifted over to the co-pilot. I swallowed loudly, looking over as the co-pilot was dragged under. His cries first muffled and then completely drowned out by the dirt. A wave of anger crashed over me, and I found myself clenching my teeth, nearly vibrating with rage. An insane urge to laugh struck me, and I had to tamp it down with all my power. It made me think about my strange reaction to the helicopter crashing down. What's wrong with me?

I thought. I had never reacted like that before. Why had I laughed in Perkins's face? Why had I welcomed death so readily then? Before I could search myself for answers, the radio in Lemus' hands came to life. Stand by. The voice from the other end said.

It was a funny choice of words, I thought. Stand by. That was literally all we could do if we didn't want to die a slow, horrible death. We had to stand by. perfectly still. So why did my legs suddenly want to move? Why did I want to jump up and down and shout and laugh? Do I really want to die? I asked myself. Branches grabbed at me as the helicopter rescue hoist lifted me through the trees. Before I broke through the canopy, I gazed down at the ground, which was now empty of all people.

The transport copter we'd crashed in had been pulled all the way under about ten minutes after Fong had. Maybe there was a point of no return for the strange roots, a point at which they simply continued pulling things or people down with them. I broke through the canopy and looked up at the belly of the rescue helicopter. The down draft buffeted me, drying some of the sweat that had soaked my uniform during the long and painful wait for the chopper to arrive. Standing still for nearly an hour is much harder than you would think. It's only when you're forced to stay absolutely still that you realize just that you realize

just how much you actually move, and how important that movement is for comfort and normalcy. Now that Fong was gone, I was technically in charge of the squad. As a corporal, I was the next in the chain of command, but I hoped to God someone else would take the reins whenever we got where we were going. The hoist stopped me next to the helicopter's door, and I was pulled inside by one of the rescue crew. The rest of my squad sat and fold down seats in the back of the aircraft. I shared looks with several of them as I got situated, and then we were nose down, flying toward the base where we'd been headed in the first place. We'd lost six people during and after the crash, the two pilots, Schuster, Tarado, Fong, and

Culver, who regained consciousness shortly before the helicopter arrived. It was a miracle he was alive after getting skewered through the throat by that branch, but it didn't last long. He started moving immediately, looking around in a and a little. of days asking what was wrong. Everyone tried to get him to stop moving, which wasn't much beyond telling him to be still. He didn't take our advice and was pulled under less than two minutes after he awoke. Now, the six of us sat in the back of the helicopter with the jungle canopy once again a hundred feet below us. No one spoke for a long time. Then Mani Cantu jerked up from his seat and

moved over to the squad in front of me. What the fuck was that about back there? What are you talking about? The words just came out, and I immediately regretted them. Everyone had seen my little breakdown. Everyone knew. I wasn't trying to ignore it, but I also didn't have a good answer for him. Don't bullshit us, man. Cantu said, gesturing at everyone else.

I could feel all eyes on me. What was that shit when the chopper was going down? You were laughing like a goddamn joker. What's wrong with you, corporal? The way Cantu said Corpour, made it clear what we were talking about. They couldn't depend on me to lead them if I was going to fall into hysterics every time our lives were in danger. I met Cantu's eyes and gathered myself for a moment. I don't know what that was about. Something's wrong with me, but I'm not going to let it

screw you guys up. I'll step down as corporal as soon as I can and recommend someone else. Who wants it? The other five shared looks. Finally, Madrigal nodded. I'll take it. Everyone's good with it. There were murmurs of assent. I felt vindicated, because Madrigal was my first choice anyway. He had experience. He was tough as nails, and he cared about everyone in our squad. He was the obvious choice. Congratulations, I said. You're now our acting corporal. We'll make it official as soon as we get to someone with rank. Madrigal nodded once. Canto studied my face for a long moment, and I knew what had to be done next. Anyone think I can't do my duty as a grunt?

If so, let me know now. I'll request a psych eval or a transfer. Vera Lemus was the first to come to my defense. He pulled the co-pilot out, she said. He was the only one of us who tried to shoot the roots, even if it didn't work. I say he stays. Perkins, to my surprise, agreed. Yeah, I say he stays too.

He paused, and a grin came over his face. Besides, it was pretty funny. I went from thinking, holy shit, we're going to die, to thinking, holy shit, slaughter's gone crazy. At least it took my mind off the crash. That's not the point. Cantu said. We need to know we can depend on him in a stressful situation. Perkins shrugged.

Like Lima said, once we landed, he seemed pretty calm and collected, and he did pull the co-pilot out. Cantu and Madrigal exchanged a look. Then Madrigal turned to me and asked, You good, Slaughter. If you're asking me whether I'll have one of those episodes again, I got to be honest. I don't know. But I don't think I'll be a liability. That's all I can give you right now.

Magical shrugged. Good enough for me. With that, the discussion seemed closed. A few minutes later, we landed on a helicopter pad and a wide open stretch of cleared-out jungle, about 300 yards wide. There were several other helicopters parked nearby, and a couple of hairlapter. hastily assembled trailers like the kind you see at construction sites placed around the clearing. We were offloaded and ushered toward a guy with Sergeant Stripes, who told us he was just our escort. Escort to where? Madrigal asked. The guy, Sergeant Greer, just pointed down at the ground and then walked away, gesturing for us to follow.

What the fuck does that mean? Lemus asked. We soon found out. From the helipad, we walked to the edge of the clearing and into the shaded. the jungle. I scanned the jungle floor for any sign of those strange roots, but I didn't see any of that color or texture. We walked down a trail until we came to a windowless, two-story metal building, which squatted under the trees, looking like some kind of pillbox without firing holes. Greer punched in a coat at the metal door, which then slid open. Two guards stood inside next to an elevator, like the kind you'd expect to find in a mine shaft. It was little more than a large platform with waist-high railings. We all got on. I looked through the metal grating that made up

the elevator floor, looking at some kind of ancient-looking staircase going down into the darkness below us. Once we were all loaded on, Greer got the elevator moving. It went down into the earth, and soon we were descending next to the staircase I'd seen, which zigged back and forth along the wall to one side. The other walls were made of cut stone. The sighted murmurs filled the elevator as we descended for nearly ten minutes. Then, as the surrounding walls disappeared, we entered another world. The cavern that opened up around us was breathtakingly massive. The elevator continued its descent, steadied by guide poles.

On three sides, there was nothing but empty space and a sheer drop. On the fourth side, we skimmed along the side of a building that had been built out of the ceiling of the cave. essentially hanging from the cave roof. The elevator came to a stop, and a door slid open to reveal a floor that looked much like every foundation building I'd ever been in. A man I recognized stood there as if waiting for us. I glanced at the man, Lucas Falk,

but another sight some distance away had caught our squad's attention, and I was no exception. I turned away from Falk and looked out the side of the elevator opposite the building. In the distance, a mile or two away, was an enormous upside-down tree. Like the building, it had its foundation in the ceiling, its roots, apparently growing upward into the earth's crust.

The scale of the tree was dizzying. Even from this distance, I couldn't see its top, and not because of the dark. The tree was lit with huge floodlights placed on the cave's roof. What looked to be drones hovered around it, providing illumination to those places where the floodlights could not reach. The tree's leafless branches stretched out below us, and upon looking at them, I had no doubt that the roots we'd encountered topside belonged to this strange and massive tree.

The trunk looked to be several hundred yards wide, although it was hard to tell with any certainty. I guessed the tree probably stretched more than a mile, maybe a lot more, down into the cave. Stepping up to the rail, I looked straight down and saw nothing but darkness. below. It was no telling how deep this cavern was. It seemed impossible, even to someone who'd been working for the foundation for years. I know it's a lot to take in, Fox said from behind us. But time is of the essence. Please, come with me. Even in our awe, we had all seen the stripes on Fox uniform. So we all did as he said, walking off the elevator. Our escort, Greer, stayed on to go back up. Falk introduced himself as he guided us down the hall and into a briefing room, where he told us all to take a seat.

He stood next to a large TV screen at the front of the room, while the rest of us sat in folding chairs facing him. Back in the day, Falk and I had been pretty good friends, but we hadn't seen each other in at least two years. He looked much older than I remembered, a risk of the job. I'll cut right to the chase here, because there's a lot to cover. and I know you all have questions. You're here on a rescue mission. Unfortunately, even though you've suffered losses and are probably exhausted,

I have to send you down as soon as possible. Lives are at stake. Maybe lots of lives. He paused, reading the room, seeing if anyone would object. But we were all soldiers, and we knew the drill. While the foundation's culture wasn't quite like that of the military, it was close enough.

If you griped, especially when fellow foundation personnel were in danger. You were asking for an erased memory and a life pushing papers in some shitty office and some shitty corner of the world, away from all the action. No one objected. Falk picked up a tablet from a nearby table and worked quickly to get an image of the huge tree on the large TV next to him. This tree is designated SCP 666, he said. Its trunk is approximately 415 yards. in diameter, and it's just over five and a half miles in length, but you will not be going

near the tree. You will be going to the bottom of the cavern into a long abandoned city that was once inhabited by a civilization we're still learning about. They were humanoid, but we're not sure if they came from the same stock as us, so to speak. Hell, they might have been us at some point. We're just not sure, and we'll let the wonks figure that out. We sent a small team down into the city two days ago to gather information and artifacts. We lost contact with them approximately 13 hours ago. Your job is to find them, or whatever remains of them, and bring any survivors and anything they've gathered back here. Falk paused, and he made a point of meeting each of our eyes in turn. He looked at me last, and his gaze lingered on my face as he

spoke these next few words. I don't know how much time you'll have to get this done. but it isn't much. We'll keep the fog away as long as we can, but I can't guarantee you more than six hours. Wait, what fog? Madrigal asked. Falk looked confused for a minute. Then he looked over his shoulder at the screen and shook his head.

I didn't tell you about the fog? No, sir. With his free hand, Falk pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes for a moment. Sorry. Being down here for extended periods, It does something to you. I'm coming up on my rotation out of here soon. This is exactly why we brought your squad in.

All our rescue squads have either been down here for too long or have their work cut out for them keeping the roots at bay up top. Perkins and I shared a look. This was an awful lot of information, most of which wasn't making any sense. Don't worry about any of that, Fox said. I'm just saying that no one has started to experience mental decay before 24 hours, so you won't have to worry about it.

Mental decay? That sounds fucking great, Kantoos said. It's temporary. Once you go topside, it fades. But we're getting off subject. Where was I? You were going to tell us about the fog, sir, Madrigal said. Right. Falk worked the tablet, bringing up a paused video that showed a relative close-up of the side of the tree. He hit play, and the footage moved, showing a humanoid figure sticking a humanoid figure sticking a out of a gash in the side of the tree's trunk. Given the size of the tree, I could tell that the figure was a giant. It was the same color as the tree itself,

but whereas the tree trunk was covered in rough textured bark, this giant figure looked more like its skin was smooth concrete. Its bald head featured no nose, no mouth, and three pairs of luminescent eyes that glowed pale blue even in the light from the drone or helicopter that had taken the footage. These eyes were stacked on each other vertically in two straight lines. It had three right arms of different sizes, with the top one being the largest. It held a massive sword in the largest hand, which it seemed to be using to try to free itself from its confines in the tree.

The figure was sticking out of the gash in the tree at an angle, so only its right side was visible, and only down to its waist. The rest of its body, including its three left arms and its legs, if it had any, were in the same. inside the tree. A pale gray fog flowed out of the tree from around the creature and dropped straight down into the darkness below the tree's downward stretching branches. I found it odd that the creature was right side up while the tree was upside down, but it told me that gravity was the same for it as it was for us. At least that was a good sign. A feeling like a couple of rats fighting erupted in my stomach as I looked at the creature on the screen. It wasn't fear. I knew fear. It was a strange flavor of excitement I had never experienced before. Not until today,

anyway. Again, a strange urge to scream laughter bubbled up, and I had to work hard to keep it in check. Only after had I tempted down that I think about how it might be better if I had just given in to that urge. Surely Falk wouldn't let me go down if I did that. Maybe this place was already getting to me. He'd said 24 hours, but maybe I was too sensitive to... whatever was causing the mental decay he'd mentioned. The problem was, I wanted to go down. I wanted to go on this mission. I was excited about it,

perhaps more excited than I'd ever been before any mission. I felt like a kid about to go on a roller coaster for the first time, and I couldn't explain it. I felt like I was losing it while also being absolutely sure of my abilities to save the people down there. Maybe it was dangerous over confidence. Maybe, but I didn't think. so. Movement on the screen brought me back. Two helicopters approached the giant and the tree

while it used its sword to try and pry the gash open more. It paid no mind to the two helicopters, not at first anyway. They were both cargo helicopters, both equipped with large cannons under the noses. The cannons had hoses trailing from them that snaked back into the cargo area. Once they were in position, they activated the cannons, which sprayed some kind of lichens. Which sprayed some kind of liquid that turned to foam as soon as it touched the tree or the figure. The enormous figure grew agitated as the foam solidified around it, eliminating what little freedom of movement it had. It tried to use its sword to hack away the foam, but the helicopter soon focused on freezing its arms to the tree. As the foam covered up more of the gash, the flow

of fog slowed to a trickle. Finally, when every crevasse was sealed, the fog stopped completely. The giant could still move its head, which it did, whipping it around in frustration. This footage was taken just over 48 hours ago, Falk said. In fact, the research team was already on their way down when this was taken. By the time they reached the bottom, the fog had dissipated enough for them to walk around in their hazmat suits. You're saying that this stuff can get through hazmat suits? Lemus asked. Falk nodded. That's right. It's nasty stuff.

And that foam will only hold for another eight hours. After that, the fog will start flowing again. Why don't you just get more of that foam stuff? I said. We're trying. But, like your own flight in, we've been running into an inordinate amount of problems getting supplies and personnel here. The foam was set to arrive yesterday, but something happened to the ship in the mid-Atlantic. We're still not sure what.

I've ordered another shipment, but it's not to be. said to arrive until tomorrow at the earliest. So what happens to us if we're down there when the fog starts going again? Lemus asked. Let's just say there are more pleasant ways to die, and getting your limbs pulled off by a team of horses as one of them. Damn, way to inspire confidence, Cantu said. Did you not send recon drones down there before the research team?

I asked. Falk nodded. We did. We saw nothing that would indicate danger. The city is deserted as far as we. We can tell. So what happened to the team? We don't know.

Their camera feeds went out shortly before we lost contact with them. We'll be putting you in at the pre-arranged rendezvous point and giving you a map of their last known coordinates. Hell, maybe they'll be at the rendezvous point, Cantu said. Wouldn't that be something? Doubtful. We've been sending drones down every two hours to check the rendezvous point. We've seen no sign of them, and the drones don't last long before they stop functioning.

Now the drones are malfunctioning, Cantu said. How do you know we won't die once we step foot down there? Falk gave him an exasperated look that said, Do you really want me to answer that question? But he spoke anyway, saying, The drones haven't detected anything inherently hazardous before they go down. The malfunctioning drones, Cantu said. Right.

Do you have any intel package ready for us? I asked, still thinking like a corporal. I stopped myself and glanced at Madrigal, who glared at me. Yes, Corporal, you'll have approximately 30 minutes to review it on your way down. Sir, I said, standing up. About that, I feel it is my duty to step down as corporal. I recommend specialist Madrigal as my replacement. Falk looked surprised, glancing from me to Madrigal.

Why do you feel it is your duty? I've been feeling a little odd, sir. A little odd? Do you have a head cold? A stomach bug? Do you think this odd feeling will interfere with your ability to do your job? I hesitated. No, sir. I'm not sick. And I think I can do my job. But my squad mates have... Is this true? Falk swept his gaze across the room. You would rather have Madrigal lead this mission? A couple of half-hearted yeses came from my squad mates. Falk nodded. Fine.

Congratulations, Corporal, M. Madrigal, now follow me. Without waiting, Falk walked out of the room and down the hall. We all fell in behind him, having no idea that it would be our last mission as a squad.