Dark Energy: The Mortal Fracture

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: WASI’S PREDATOR TRAINING

1988 Hamilton, Montana – Old Mine

The darkness swallowed a nineteen-year-old Wasi in his entirety as he was lowered into the mine. His body dangled in the darkness activating and heightening his senses of touch, smell, and taste. These senses each hungered for knowledge of the dark environment they entered, and as the rope lowered him into the chasm, they were bathed in a flash flood of stimuli.

His ears were the first to be gratified by the sound of the rope that creaked and moaned as the course fibers were pulled taut and rubbed against each other under the combined weight of Wasi’s body and his rescue gear. The radio on his vest added to the melody with a loud squelch. This noise was followed by a baritone voice that shocked him back to attention, “How you doing, rookie?” the voice asked.

Wasi’s grip on the rope was cemented with adrenaline, yet the voice over the radio continued to prompt him to respond, “Come on, rookie, we need to hear from you.”

Scrunching his shoulders to bring the radio to his hands, he allowed his grip to release just enough to finger the radio and to depress the talk button, “I’m fine,” his voice squeaked out. Clearing the fear from his throat with a forced cough, he responded again more confidently, “I’m fine.” Then his feet hit a solid surface, “Stop!” he yelled as he gripped the radio.

Wasi tested the stability of the surface as he gradually shifted his weight from the support of the rope to the resistance of the rock platform. Squatting down, he turned on his flashlight and explored the alien realm. What he noticed was that the light reflected cleanly off the hard and sharp surfaces of the cavern walls, but when the light fell on the floor, it fragmented and splintered as portions of the beam were refracted and absorbed by the serpentine glass. Brushing aside the fine layer of sedimentary dust, he exposed the crystalline surface.

“What the hell?”

“Do you see the girl?” the voice on the radio asked.

Wasi peered through the glass and saw movement below him.

“Yeah, I see her.”

“Can you get to her?”

Wasi looked for a passage to get through the translucent ceiling. As he did this, he noticed that his safety line was tangled on the rock above him. He disconnected himself, freeing his body and giving it more leeway to move around.

“I can’t see a way through. I think we’ll need to…”

At that moment, a drop of Wasi’s sweat fell to the floor, instantly absorbing into the dust causing a small explosion. The floor fractured and he dropped into a tunnel. His arms flailed out to catch his weight and stabilize himself, but this was pointless as they found no traction to slow his descent.

He slid down the sharp decline of the shaft and into a shallow pool of dark and thick fluid. He struggled to pull his head above the surface, as the liquid seemed to envelop him and pull him down. Each time his head was allowed to break the surface he gasped, drawing in both air and the tarry substance. Scratching and beating at the surface of his syrupy captor, he frantically searched for a ledge or any other source of leverage which he could use to pull himself out of trouble. Finally, in one last thrust, his arm burst out of the liquid and his hand collided with a wall. Clawing at a rocky ledge on the wall, he found a point of leverage and pulled his body out of the mineral tar. Clinging to the wall he drew his legs under him and found footing. At last he was free and back in control of the situation.

Wasi’s heart rate slowed as he regained control of his fear, his body, and his senses. He ran his hand along the wall as he walked the circumference of the pool trying to determine if there was a way out. The walls were slimed with a thick and foul-smelling substance that was so strong that he could taste it without opening his mouth. It had a ferrous tang that was underscored by something else that was tart and acidic. He pulled at his nose, trying to milk out the smell so that he no longer had to experience its foulness, but the more effort he exerted to rid himself of this haunting sensation, the stronger it became.

Wading around the pool he looked for an exit. His large legs dredged through the water, creating a wake. Then the sound of pressurized gas escaping its container blasted into the chamber followed by a flood of the slime that covered the walls. This slime poured down onto Wasi’s head, forcing him under the surface and filling his mouth, nostrils, and lungs. He struggled under the torrent, but was held under by an unseen force. As he lost consciousness, his body was swept away with the undertow and brought into a larger chamber where the substance was emptying.

His body floated lifelessly in the dark pool as his brain starved for oxygen. The cavern’s mouth yawned and stretched as the mineral-rich emulsion flowed into the next chamber moving his body towards its destiny.

The current that carried him lapped at his body, bathing it in the minerals and energy it carried. He drank in the darkness and his body reacted violently to the fluid filling his lungs. His body contracted and contorted in an attempt to expel the foreign substance, and with one final seizure, the malevolent cocktail oozed from his mouth.

A drip of cold freshwater on Wasi’s face slapped him back into consciousness. As he regained his sense of awareness, he stretched his arms upward towards the surface fighting to right his position in the water and to find a foothold.

Wasi bobbed at the surface gasping for air. His eyes darted around the new cavern as he tried to find familiarity within the alien world into which he had been plunged. He felt alone and afraid, and he wanted a way out, even if that way out was death. Then a presence came to his attention. He was not alone in the chamber. There was something else, someone else. He slowly swam towards the entity trying to be silent in his motions so that he could determine what he was sharing his space with before he revealed his own presence to it. As he reached the other side of the flooded cavern he bumped into the body. It was cold and silent, yet it still pulsated with life.

“It was the girl,” he thought as fear left his body and his life-saving training kicked into gear.

Wasi knew he had to get her out of the pool. Her body was cold and rigid, both dangerous signs. Wasi activated the radio on his vest for help. “Is anyone there?” he asked.

“Where are you?”

Wasi illuminated the cavern with the flashlight tethered to his gear belt. The light was just bright enough to reveal his location. He saw where he had been kneeling when the structure collapsed and he fell into the side tunnel.

“I’m in a flooded cavern about 10 feet to the left of the main shaft. You’ll have to drill to get through.”

“Did you find the girl?”

“Yes and she’s still alive, but not for much longer. We need to hurry.”

“Okay, hang in there. We’ll be down to you soon.”

Wasi cradled the girl’s still body in his arms as he swam backward trying to find a position that was away from the spot where the rescue team would be drilling and a spot where he could keep both of their heads above the waterline with as little effort as possible. As he waited for rescue, his body began to shiver.

#

Two hours later the drill had finally broke through the ceiling of the flooded cavern. Wasi shielded the girl from the falling debris that rained down from the work being done by the other rescuers. As the rescue harness appeared above them, the cavern shook and moaned.

“Shit,” Wasi blurted as he realized that the cavern was about to collapse again.

He rushed over to the harness and tried to get it around the girl but she kept slipping under the slimy water.

“Come on,” he said as he fumbled with the gear.

“Wasi, hurry the hell up. The mine is about to collapse.”

“Screw it,” Wasi said as he unsnapped the harness allowing it to float away. He then took the clip and snapped it onto his own harness and grabbed a hold of the girl and called back up to the surface, “Bring us up!”

The surface crew reeled the two up as fast as was safe, but as they passed each obstacle on their way to the surface, Wasi could see the integrity of the mine deteriorating. Rocks broke away from the walls and tumbled inward, water pushed through weak spots and there was a sound, like a primal giant awakening, that growled and snarled from the depths of the mountain indicating that it did not want to give up its treasures.

Wasi urged the cable to go faster, “Come on, come on,” but the cable seemed to slow in contempt to his pleads for mercy.

The mountain groaned and belched, shaking the ground, creating a cascade of rocks and debris. The machinery on the surface shifted, shaking the cable and causing Wasi to lose his grip on the girl. Her body slipped and twisted as he struggled to maintain his grip on her. Then a rock from the surface fell down the shaft and hit him in the head. The pain ripped through his body as blood gushed from the wound. Wasi’s strength abandoned him as his blood pressure dropped and his consciousness faded away. The last thing he saw was the girl’s eyes opening and staring up at him as her body fell back into the darkness.

#

On the surface Wasi was extracted from the mine just as it collapsed completely, sealing off the entry and all hopes of the girl’s rescue. As the paramedics tended to Wasi’s injuries, he fought to regain consciousness. In his fluctuating bursts of awareness, he collected enough information to understand that the girl had been lost because he had made the mistake of not using the safety harness on her. All he could think was that he should have used the harness. This regret played over and over in his head for the next twenty years of his life.

#

Wyoming High Country – Special Ops Wilderness Survival Camp 1990

The sound of the helicopter blades chopped through the thickness of the cold night skies as Wasi and several other special forces candidates sat impatiently. While the others rummaged through their gear making sure that they had everything that they needed to make it through the next 72 hours, Wasi did not move. His entire being was still locked in the memories of his failure to save the girl from the cave. This guilt ate at his brain and corrupted its synoptic connections. This compounded the physical damage to his brain, which was feeding the development of his growing psychopathy.

“Wasi, you are up first,” the commanding officer stated as he opened the side hatch of the helicopter.

Wasi moved towards the opening like a zombie, without fear and without any physical sensations. He pulled down his goggles and leaned towards the dark abyss that lay in front of him.

“Go,” ordered the commanding officer as he slapped Wasi on the buttocks.

Wasi gave in to gravity and allowed his body to be pulled from the helicopter. He dropped heavily towards the earth for a few seconds and then he was pulled back up into the sky by the resistance caused by airflow pushing up against the deployed parachute. This resistance slowed Wasi’s descent and guided his fall.

Wasi was despondent. He was in a very dark place and decided that he would accept death over his overwhelming shame and grief. He thought about crashing into a tree or into a rocky mountain ledge or perhaps just cutting the chords to the parachute and allowing himself to drop to the ground with fatal force. As he surrenders to the pleasure of the thoughts of this relief, he cut the cords that tethered him to life and his body fell free from their constraints.

Wasi closed his eyes and allowed his body to be consumed by the coldness of the winter night. He could feel death opening its arms to catch him, but this comfort was batted away by a cruelness that sparked within him. Deep within the structures of his brain new connections and white matter multiplied and wove a psychopathic sickness into being. It disconnected him from his emotional pain and rewired him to be something more satisfying than a failed rescue worker.

As the circuitry of Wasi’s brain snaked its way to darker places, the reality of his descent back to the mortal world ended with the shattering of a thin layer of ice that covered a deep, spring-fed mountain pond. The frigid water swallowed him and cushioned his fall allowing him to come to a slow and gentle stop.

Wasi’s body responded to the near-freezing temperatures of the water by burning its nerves with pain and pumping his body full of adrenaline. The psychopathic animal that had just been created, clawed and beat the water until it came to the surface and took in a long and wet gasp of air.

Wasi crawled onto the ice that spread out near the edge of the pond like lily pads. Unlike the thin skin of ice at the center of the pond, these chunks of frozen water were thicker and capable of holding his weight.

Once on the ice slabs, he slid and porpoised like a seal along their surfaces until he reached the shore. There he stripped off his wet clothing and made a fire using pieces of dead vegetation and friction to create thermal ignition.

The heat from the fire seemed to turn its back on Wasi who lay naked and desperate in its shadow. It was as if the life force of the fire was resentful of Wasi’s previous attempt at suicide and it was punishing him by only providing him with enough warmth to keep him from freezing, but not enough to melt away his pain. Wasi resigned to slumber as the fire finally forgave him and embraced him with satisfying warmth.

Several hours later, the howling of wolves trickled into Wasi’s senses, causing his eyes to pop open and to dilate. The howling was soft and low and it drifted through the mountains, washing over every rock outcrop, valley, and canyon as if it were searching for something. Wasi stood up in full naked splendor, as if he had been reborn a new man. The howling stirred something in him and he anxiously pulled on his clothing that had dried by the fire while he slept.

Following the echoes of the wolves’ melodies, he hunted them, not out of fear, but rather out of an intense feeling of competitiveness. He pushed his body to its limit as he ran through the wilderness jumping over frozen logs and dredging through deep drifts of snow. The closer he came to the wolves the more violent his physical reaction to their howling became.

As he came upon the wolves, they were actively engaged in a kill. Wasi crouched in the brambles and watched lustfully as the wolves encircled a moose and executed their attack.

Their actions were well-coordinated and intense. The moose dipped and thrust its antlers at the beasts as each one charged it. It lunged its large, heavy body forward knocking one of the predators onto its back, while another wolf attacked from the rear biting into the vulnerable tendons on the back of the moose’s hind leg. The moose bellowed in response to its pain and fear. This whetted the wolves’ appetites and they picked up the pace of their mortal torment. Their attack and retreat antics continued for over an hour until the moose was exhausted and death overcame it.

Wasi moved closer as the wolves sunk their teeth into the moose’s flesh. He could smell the rich blood mix with their saliva as it dripped from their lips and spilled onto the ground in a crimson froth. The wolves growled and snapped at one another as they fought to protect their hierarchical feeding rights.

He crept closer and closer as if he had been entranced by their behavior. He could feel his own mouth water as the sound of bones cracking and sinews ripping licked at his ears. Soon he was among the pack, knee-deep in blood and gore. The wolves were starved and not willing to run from the kill, but they were also not willing to share with a predator that did not help with the hunt. They turned on him, growling and snapping, pushing him away from the carcass with their ferocity.

Wasi backed away and into the cover of the forest. He could still smell the nourishing death that lay beyond the thicket, but he knew this was not his kill to enjoy. As he turned to head back to his fire near the pond, his attention was captured by the sound of a small aircraft engine sputtering and struggling for power.

Wasi looked to the sky and searched for the source of this mechanical distress call. He saw a trail of dim flames streaking through the sky above him and he followed it to the craft. The plane skidded on the snow, plowing through the landscape and scraping away everything in its path. Finally, it butted up against a rocky outcrop, which crumpled the nose and shattered the windshield, as it came to a violent stop.

Wasi climbed up to the craft and examined the damage. Gas poured from its belly, tainting the purity of the air with a sweet, but toxic perfume. Wasi could see the pilot slumped over the controls.

He pulled himself up to the door and yanked on the handle to open it. The door was jammed and unwilling to release the contents of the plane. The pilot was conscious, but badly injured, and jerked back in response to seeing Wasi’s furrowed brow in his window.

“Cover your eyes!” Wasi yelled as he motioned that he was going to break out the side window.

The pilot shielded his face with the controls positioned in front of him. Wasi tightened his fist and smashed out the side window with his bare knuckles.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

The pilot shook his head no and wheezed as blood gurgled up from his stomach. Wasi leaned in through the window and manipulated the pilot’s body to get a better understanding of his injuries. As his hands palpated the pilot’s body, they dampened with his blood.

Wasi retracted his hands and examined the ruby red elixir that covered them like gloves. He brought his fingers close to his face and inhaled their essence. His brain ignited with excitement as synaptic connections filled in the damaged tissue and repurposed his responses to bloody stimuli.

“I can’t breathe,” the pilot gasped as he struggled for air.

Wasi pulled the pilot backward away from the controls separating his body from the metal shaft that had impaled his stomach. The pilot screamed from the pain and the sudden release of pressure from his abdominal cavity. He struggled and thrashed in response to his mortal panic. This triggered Wasi’s predatory response and he shook the pilot to “encourage” him to settle down.

“Don’t move,” Wasi commanded.

The pilot forced himself to calm down and his movements slowed to a stop. As the pilot panted and sweated, Wasi grabbed him by the arms and pulled him out of the cockpit. Once free of the plane, Wasi dragged the injured pilot to a safe place away from the craft. He examined the pilot’s body while the pilot muttered something about having a fight with his wife. Wasi was not interested in this so he ignored what he was saying and instead focused on finding the parts of the pilot’s body that were causing him pain.

As he found each pain center, the pilot winced and convulsed from Wasi’s touch. This enticed Wasi to press the points harder and harder, as if he was testing the strength of the man’s ability to withstand his torture.

“Stop!” the pilot begged, but Wasi was not himself. The blood, the horror, and the vulnerability of the situation had possessed him and he was now acting as a simple, instinctive and primal demon.

The pilot looked up into Wasi’s eyes which were yellowed with his psychopathy and saw his death. “Please don’t do this,” the pilot begged. “I have a wife.”

This pleading heightened Wasi’s arousal and a new schema of thoughts poured into his mind. His internal voice now spoke in a new voice, one that was deep and primeval. It told Wasi that the pilot was a threat to his survival and he needed to be killed. This primeval force took control of him, instructing him on what needed to be done. Wasi responded to his new master and reached for the pilot’s throat. He felt the pulse of blood pushing back against his menacing grip.

“No,” said the voice in his head, “not that way. They’ll know you did it.”

Wasi removed his hands from the pilot’s neck and stared down at the injured man. The blood from his wounds cloaked his body in a velvety rich red shroud. Wasi grabbed the man’s head with his large hands and gave one quick yank to the right. The cracking of bone echoed through the valley like a gunshot.

#

Base Camp - Special Ops Wilderness Survival Camp

The base camp for the Special Ops wilderness survival camp had been transitioned from a training platform to search and rescue headquarters. In addition to military personnel, there was also local law enforcement, search and rescue K-9 units, paramedics and a civilian search team. The night was still dark and the temperature was well below freezing. The heat from the base camp caused by electric lights and a mass of warm bodies, created a cloud of dense moisture that rose up from the frozen ground and into the night sky like a phantom of the team’s hope to find the missing pilot alive and well.

The search team had been briefed about the missing pilot and his wife was shivering in the background hoping for their success. The first team left base camp and entered the wilderness spreading out in a single line as they tracked through the search zone. Above this search line was a rescue helicopter that scanned the region using a high powered spotlight.

The light cut through the darkness and desperately searched for any sign of the plane or the pilot that had gone missing hours earlier. As the helicopter searched the ground, the light fell upon Wasi who was bushwhacking his way back to base camp carrying the dead body of the pilot draped over his shoulders like a bison hide.

“Base camp we have spotted…” the helicopter pilot was unsure exactly how to complete his report.

“Say again…what have you spotted?”

“What the hell is that?” the pilot asked the others in the helicopter. “We spotted a man who appears to be carrying a body. This could be the missing pilot. They are moving towards the camp and they are about three miles south of the crash site.”

“The rescue team will be re-routed and sent to assist. Track their progress, over.”

“10-4, over and out.”

Wasi could feel the droning pulsations from the spinning blades of the helicopter that hovered above him, but he was deaf to their sounds. Blood dripped from the pilot’s body as Wasi lumbered through the wilderness heading back to base camp, as if pulled towards the camp by some sadistic mission.

Wasi appeared at the edge of the base camp with the pilot’s bloody body draped over his shoulders. His large frame was stiff and monstrously decorated in gore and sweat. The camp froze in place as everyone stared at Wasi and his quarry. His breath puffed out of his inflated chest and blood dripped over his exposed skin tracing his engorged veins and flexed muscles. Finally aware of the other people surrounding him, he dropped to his knees and allowed the pilot’s body to roll off his back and onto the ground.

The pilot’s wife rushed to her husband’s corpse and wailed in mourning. This sound slashed through his body, ripping his flesh with the sharpness of its pitch, and silencing the demonic voice in his head. Exhausted by his exorcism, he closed his eyes and fell heavily to the ground.

# 

To be continued...