Dr. Hiroshi Ishiguro, one of the lead researchers of Zhongma Fortress, sat hunched at a desk in his laboratory scribbling entries into a notebook. A nondescript man easily obsessed with departmental minutia, the doctor rarely if ever abandoned his lab which many joked was his living quarters.

Ishiguro kept brushing a loose forelock out of his face as he furiously recorded the day’s findings, excitedly mouthing each word he jotted down. His work scratched to a stop when the lights above flickered breaking his concentration and drawing his ire. He leaned back in his chair impatiently waiting for the disturbance to stop, tapping his pen against the tabletop until he finally threw it against the wall in frustration. The flashing eventually stopped.

“Damn Shigeru. Doesn’t care who his experiments affect,” Hiroshi mumbled, getting up to retrieve his pen before returning to his notes. Soon he was chewing on his ink-stained thumbnail, silently reading over what he had jotted down.

A glass jar rested on the table next to him. Within it floated a small, swollen organ of tan color orbited by a swirl of cloudy fluid. Hiroshi would stop and stare at it from time to time, transfixed by that lump. “What could you be?”

Ishiguro shifted in his chair when he heard footsteps approaching. The thought of further interruption made him slap the tabletop. Working with soldiers was intolerable. They failed to understand the meaning of privacy, always complicating his research with the maruta. If they weren’t getting in the way, they were only making things worse.

Someone knocked at the door. “Polite for once,” Hiroshi said to himself. Probably another soldier come to stare at his research subjects. “Go away! Find your damned entertainment elsewhere! I have work to do!” Despite his demands, the door opened and the imperious General Shiro Ishii, commander of Zhongma, stepped in. “What is the meaning-” Hiroshi immediately snapped to attention when he saw who it was.

“At ease, Ishiguro,” Ishii icily commanded, closing the door behind him.

Hiroshi remained at attention, staring straight ahead rather than at his commander who stood off to his right. “What brings you to me, sir?”

Ishii crossed his arms in front of his puffed-out chest, cocking an eyebrow. “I have come to see your oni.”

Somewhat relieved, Hiroshi’s rigid posture slackened and he glanced over at Ishii meeting the general’s eyes for the first time. “Yes, sir,” he stammered excitedly. “This way sir.” Hiroshi guided Ishii past a curtain, the pair moving between two rows of steel autopsy tables. At the far end were three more tables, two on one side and one on the other, covered with sheets concealing sizable masses beneath. As they reached the three, Hiroshi pulled the sheet off of the specimen closest to the wall.

“Kuso!” Ishii shouted at the sight of the twisted, emaciated form. “Where was this found?”

“A patrol discovered it four kilometers south. It had been dead for some time.”

“It must be at least two meters tall.”

“2.15 to be exact, sir.”

Ishii noted the humanoid’s rotted stub of a nose, its missing ears, and its coriaceous hide. “What happened to it? Is its appearance due to decay?”

“No sir. The specimen was incredibly intact when discovered.”

Ishii was incredulous, pointing at the head as if jabbing it with a spear. “But the nose and ears-”

“There is scabbing on both indicating those wounds were incurred while still alive.”

“What about the sores? The skin texture. Is it leprous?”

“No. That was one of my initial opinions, but the body tested negative.”

Ishii stroked at his moustache and van dyke. “Do you know what killed it?”

Hiroshi pursed his lips, squinting. “I’m not sure, sir.”

Ishii stepped closer to the table. The bulbous head of the creature belied a misshapen skull. One eye was positioned six inches above the other while the brow bulged like a bubble. Its lower jaw protruded prominently beyond the upper palate revealing chipped, yellowing teeth. “Do you have any idea what it is?”

“I believe the specimen to be a hominid of some sort, definitely deformed judging by its many asymmetrical features. He suffered from malnutrition. See here.” Hiroshi pointed to the scalp. “There are patches of baldness. And look here.” He grabbed the lower jaw and pulled down to open its mouth. “He has missing and loose teeth.” Hiroshi released its chin. When the mouth failed to close, Hiroshi nudged it shut before continuing. “Also, notice the thin physique. Little musculature or body fat is apparent. The ribs and hips are readily visible. Finally, look at its skin. It is dry and yellowing. But this is strange.” Hiroshi lifted an arm. “The cutaneous layer is thick and tough. I had a hard time slicing through it.”

“That is all very fascinating,” Ishii caustically interrupted, “but your report stated there were further oddities.”

“Yes.” Hiroshi dropped the cadaver’s arm in his rush to explain, the appendage hitting with a thwap on the steel. “I have discovered organs that I cannot explain and abnormalities in those that I can. The heart is grossly enlarged. This specimen was twelve hundred grams.”

“Perhaps it was hypertrophy,” Ishii countered.

“Actually, I believe it to be a result of hyperplasia. But there is more. Beneath the heart I discovered…something. A growth. At first I thought it may have been a tumor, but closer inspection revealed it to be some sort of endocrine gland.”

Ishii tilted his head in contemplation. “Why would it have a gland beneath its heart?”

“I could not say, sir. May I continue?” Ishii nodded. “We found another creature like this one several days ago,” Hiroshi stated covering the first creature and turning to the table beside it. He pulled the side of the sheet up to reveal one of the second cadaver’s hands. Ishii noticed the skin on the arm was pebbled rather than smooth. “The deformities on this subject are even more pronounced. Look at the fingers.”

Ishii bent over and adjusted his spectacles. The hand consisted of a thumb, three swollen fingers, and a much reduced, miniaturized pinky. Staring at the corpse’s distended digits he noticed the nails were missing and what looked like bone poking through the skin at the tips. “What is that?”

“I’m not sure, sir. I’ve already dissected the other hand. Whatever this is, it is an additional segment, or phalanx, to the finger. Judging by its curved, semi-sharp nature, I can only theorize it is a claw, though not fully formed. When the fingers bend, it emerges fully.” Hiroshi demonstrated for Ishii.

“So these claws could be used for attack?”

“I believe they are one of this beast’s chief weapons. Livestock have been found shredded and gutted by peasants in the area.”

“So what is it?” Ishii pressed, unnerved. “A new species? A deformed man?”

Hiroshi threw his arms up. “I do not know. I find these specimens to be incredibly unnatural in their design with just as many differences as similarities between them. Clearly there is something more to them and their origin, but I could not tell you what it is.” He glowered at the covered bodies intensely. “I hope to find out.”

Ishii stroked his moustache harder. “How many of these creatures have been found?”

“Only these three. I wouldn’t be too concerned if not for the contents of one’s stomach.”

“Which was?”

“The chewed hand of what I believe to be a child.”

“Hidoi,” Ishii hissed, a look of disgust marred Ishii’s once placid face, his forehead furrowed. “Where are these things coming from?”

“They’ve been found in random areas ranging from four to fifteen kilometers south and west of here.”

“Could there be more of them?”

“I’m afraid so, sir. There have been continued reports of attacks on livestock.” Hiroshi paused before ominously adding, “Some villagers have also been reported missing.”

Ishii shook his head. “Have we found any of these things alive?”

“You’ve seen the reports-”

“Hai,” Ishii replied with annoyance, “but I want to know if there is anything missing from those reports.”

Hiroshi swallowed. “There have been rumors, sir.”

“Rumors? What sort of rumors?”

Hiroshi brushed the forelock out of his face again as he looked at the floor. “Private Okamoto claimed to have seen a falling star while on guard duty some time ago. He seemed shaken by it according to some of the men. Since then, the soldiers have been speaking about a strange light in the forest. These creatures began appearing shortly afterwards.”

Ishii shook his head. “The men can’t believe in this nonsense.”

Hiroshi looked up. “I assure you they do. Many patrols refuse to venture into the wood after dark.”

“Because of some fool lights?”

“Not simply the lights but what they think they represent.” Hiroshi licked his lips. “They’re afraid the spirits of the dead have come back to wreak vengeance for what we have done here.”

“Dame. That is nonsense. I do not have time for stories of yurei roaming the woods. I have to know what these things are. How grave a threat they represent.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want daily copies of your ongoing research. I’m also increasing patrols. I don’t care if I have to force the men to go into the forest at bayonet point. We’re going to find out where these monsters are coming from and put an end to them.”

***

Sheriff Brady’s car ground to a halt in front of Chris Donner’s farmhouse. He hadn’t found any sign of his friend on the highway during his frantic drive. Whether that was good or bad was yet to be seen. Mark hoped Chris had found his way home, though he worried what condition he’d find Donner if Chris should be inside. He remembered the twisted wreckage of Chuck’s truck and flinched. No man could walk away from that unscathed. Despite his misgivings, Mark exited the car and headed for the porch pushing negative thoughts aside in his haste.

His stride slowed the closer he got to the farmhouse. There was something queer about the place. An amorphous gloom hung over the building and nearby yard despite the clear spring sky and bright sun shining overhead. It was like a fog but clearer, a patch of night invading noon. Day dimmed with every hesitant step Mark took forward until he thought it was dusk. That sepulchral veil blackened the wooden clapboards and lent the air a cool bite that made Mark shiver. He looked out toward the fields and saw the wind lazily stirring the dust, yet he felt nothing where he stood. Not a breeze or gust. All was still. Nearing the porch, he discovered the once sturdy floorboards were now warped and splintering in parts.

“Chris,” he called out, pounding on the front door with his fist. When no one answered, Mark glanced in a window. The dark front room appeared empty. The sheriff went back to the door and pounded again. “Chris? It’s Mark. Are you in there?” He was met by nothing but silence. Mark checked the knob and found the door unlocked.

The interior was somber. A sensation of despair washed over him as solid as the tide nearly buckling his knees. Mark was overcome with anguish. He struggled to keep himself from surrendering to the heartache as the door closed behind him. Enveloped by the darkness, he lit a match before continuing.

There was a palpable thickness to the air that made it hard to breathe. The blackness pressed down on Mark as the walls creaked menacingly and the temperature dropped. He began to feel lightheaded, little sparks of light dancing before his eyes. A sensation of floating took hold of him which he had great difficulty shaking off. Despite a gnawing fear, he pushed on into the front room. Mark found the area in disarray. The numerous pictures that had rested on the mantle were now smashed on the floor next to an overturned table and a chair flipped on its side against the wall. Had there been a struggle? Chris’ shotgun was missing from its usual place.

“Hello? Chris?” He searched the darkness with his wavering flame. “Chris?” His match fluttered and then died. Mark cursed as he reached into his pocket for another. Lighting another match, he continued toward the back of the house picking his steps lightly remembering that missing shotgun.

As the sheriff reached a corner he noticed a soft glow. He peeked around the corner down a hallway where he saw an open door. Mark could make out a figure wrapped in a quilt standing inside the room just beyond the doorway, his back to the sheriff. The man was posted in front of a mirror apparently staring at his reflection. Faint light emanated from the room streaming past the figure to illuminate the sheriff’s puzzled face.

“Chris?” The corridor’s walls groaned loudly.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Chris croaked.

Mark put out the match and rounded the corner, relieved to see his friend. “Are you alright?”

“No. No, I’m not alright,” Chris painfully answered. “It’s all so dark. I can feel it. Feel the cold. Death. So much pain. Where did all the warmth go?” He pulled the quilt tighter around himself.

“Chris?” Mark started forward.

“Don’t come back here,” Chris sharply cautioned.

Mark froze. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt from the accident?”

“The…accident?”

“Chuck Frazier hit someone a few miles from here. I thought it was you.”

“Chuck,” Chris absently repeated. “I saved him.”

“What?”

“I saved him,” Chris repeated. “I don’t know how. I saw him lying there. All bloody and broken. Sensed him slipping away. I made him whole.” He paused, thinking over what he had said. “I saved him.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There was a light. It came from the sky. From the storm. It called to me. Beckoned me. Why the hell did I listen?” Chris relaxed the quilt letting it fall to the floor revealing his chalky, naked body which shimmered in the feeble light. He stared at his pale hands. “Dear god, what is happening to me?”

The house groaned and shifted around Mark as if it were breathing. The sheriff pulled his pistol.

“You have every right to be afraid.” Chris shuddered. “There is so much emptiness. The lights are scattered. Pulling further apart. All is fading in a sea of blackness. I’m lost in that twilight.” Donner began to sob, breaking down. “I can hear whispers calling to me from the void. Even my father. I don’t want to hear them. I want to be left alone. Leave me alone,” he pleaded.

“Chris?” Mark took a step forward.

“Leave me alone!” Chris roared, spinning around to reveal his alien face. An invisible force slammed into Mark throwing him back into the wall. Quickly recovering, the sheriff stumbled to his feet and blindly ran for the front door.

***

Akkad crouched in the murk of his personal pit, a charnel quarry littered with bones that subtly danced with the pulse of the asteroid. In his hand he held a kogoc: a small, pallid creature whose paws kicked vigorously at the daimōn’s grip as it thrashed. It was a hairless, vile thing; a snake with spindly limbs and the eyeless head of an eel. It squealed when Akkad playfully sliced into it with a claw. The daimōn continued to poke and prod at the kogoc making it squirm, his tongue flicking out to taste its panic. Akkad’s jaws opened in amusement at its suffering, laughter cackling deep in his throat. When he tired of tormenting the creature, Akkad brought it to his mouth and bit down on its head. The kogoc’s skull crunched as he chewed and ripped it free of the body. He stopped when a green silhouette flared to life at the lip of the pit interrupting his meal. The laelap’s emerald light spilled over into the cavity revealing a growling Akkad.

“Must you bother me while I feed?”

“You requested a status report, daimōn.”

“It could have waited.” Akkad tore another piece off the kogoc.

“I have positive news. There is a survivor.”

“Truly,” Akkad clicked and hissed. “I thought it would take weeks to find a viable candidate.”

“It would seem fate was on our side.”

“It is the will of Topheth.” Akkad bowed his head in respect before raising it again. “Report.”

“Yes, daimōn. Our unit on the ground had communicated failure in its initial attempts at alteration with the deaths of the first several subjects.”

“These weak creatures cannot handle our blood. Thankfully we have found one too stubborn to die.”

“Yes, daimōn.”

Akkad tossed the remains of the kogoc aside and cleaned his claws on his chest scales. “Tell me the results.”

“Following cessation of all biological function, nanocytes have been recollected from the fallen. Their data revealed a 91.6% fatality rate among subjects brought about by starvation, cardiac arrest, even tissue rejection. But as I have stated, one has survived. His alteration has progressed with few problems. He is thriving. In fact, our ground unit has had problems evading the hybrid in its reconnaissance.”

“Indeed. Perhaps there is hope for this race after all.”

“Perhaps daimōn. But the hybrid has shown a strange propensity for avoiding settlements and contact with its own species unlike the other subjects. This behavior is deliberate and positive for it shows he still possesses higher mental functioning. It refuses to hunt humans even though they offer the most sustenance. Instead, the hybrid has settled for lesser prey time and again.”

“That will change. This…hybrid knows he and they are no longer the same, but he is unsure of what he is and so he clings to his former self. Soon he will be forced to accept the reality that he is something more, something greater. When that time comes he will be forced to confront who he once was, to confront this…humanity. And when he conquers it, conquers them, then he shall finally be a Cthon in body and soul.” Akkad coughed in severe pleasure at the thought.

“That moment may come sooner rather than later. I must report that the natives are alerted to his presence due to the activities of the other test subjects. Armed patrols have been seen venturing into his territory.”

“Excellent. They will help to hone his skills.” Akkad flexed his claws in contemplation. “How soon before alteration is complete?”

“That remains uncertain, daimōn. There are still structural quandaries to overcome and the subject has proven resilient at times to detailed genetic manipulation for unknown reasons. As of this moment, the nanocytes report twenty-five percent structural completion.”

“I tire of this waiting,” Akkad huffed. “When will I see his potential?”

“Do not fear, daimōn. Soon the hybrid will start migrating. Its current hunting grounds are nearly depleted of viable fodder. Whether he wishes it or not, the hybrid will have to confront those settlements surrounding him if he is to survive.”

“To see the terror he will bring.” Akkad once more opened his jaws in mirth before a thought made him slam them shut. “What of the other?”

“We were unable to track the Therian probe, daimōn. Something jammed our sensors, most likely the Therian craft to prevent our intervention in their own efforts at alteration.”

“Pity. I was hoping for a peek at the competition. No matter. Keep me updated on this hatchling. Now leave me.”

The laelap’s avatar prostrated and dissolved, the darkness once more washing over Akkad. He picked up the body of the kogoc and proceeded to finish his feast.

Next Chapter: Chapter 7