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IF - Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2024-12-14 00:40:00 +0000 UTC------------------
The soft, steady thrum of the Dark Chaser’s engine hummed through the hull, a deep, resonating pulse that Isla could feel in her chest. It wasn’t the chugging roar of a standard ship’s engine—this was something smoother, quieter, like the steady beat of a sleeping giant’s heart. The faintest vibration carried through the deck beneath her boots as she stood at the stern, eyes locked on Site-X0 as it gradually shrank into the distance.
Jutting from the sea like the spine of a colossal beast, the site grew smaller by the second. The obelisk remained the centerpiece, that smooth, unyielding spike of unknown material anchoring the entire facility like a blade driven into the ocean’s heart. It didn’t seem to shrink as quickly as the rest of the base. No, perhaps it more held fast to its place in her mind, refusing to be reduced in scale, like it defied perspective, offering sanctuary.
Her eyes flicked to the waterline around the base. No currents. No ripple effects from the platform. The only shadow came from the obelisk, and the only movement came from the gentle ripples that were pushed aside by the structure and their vessel’s wake.
Her gaze swept up to the open sky. No clouds. No sun. No moon. Just a soft, omnipresent glow that suffused the endless, empty expanse with a dreamlike quality. The light didn’t seem to come from any one direction—it was everywhere and nowhere at once.
“Got that look on your face,” Brigid said from behind her. The engineer’s boots clomped softly as she approached, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. Her gaze followed Isla’s, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the distant site. “Like you’re trying to figure out if you’re losing it or if the world just stopped making sense.”
“Both,” Isla muttered, tilting her head toward the endless sky. “You notice it too?”
“The light with no sun?” The redhead raised a brow, lips curling into a wry smile. “Yeah, I noticed. There were a lot of strange things at the previous site I was at—can’t talk about it—but this certainly takes the cake. Been noticing a lot of things. Like how the reflections are sharper than they should be. Like we’re walking on a polished glass stage, and someone’s watching from below.”
“Not helping,” Isla muttered, glancing down at her reflection again in a more sinister light. It stared back at her, unwavering beside the small wakes the boat made.
“Wasn’t trying to,” Brigid replied, arms folding as she leaned against the rail beside her. “Noticed you’ve been walking the deck, reading your tablet, and thinking a lot since we shoved off. It’s good. Makes me feel like we’re in good hands. Thinking’s better than blind confidence.”
“I can agree to that.”
They watched the site in silence for a moment longer. The slow beat of the ship’s engine matched the slow thrum in Isla’s chest. She could feel it in her teeth, like a low buzz that was just on the edge of hearing but just out of reach. Her eyes drifted to the soft glow on the horizon, and she swore it was bending—not visibly, but something about it felt curved, like they were on the edge of a bubble that could pop at any moment.
“Navigation room,” Brigid said, pushing off the rail and tilting her head invitingly. “You should see this.”
Isla followed, walking through the narrow hatch into the heart of the ship. The walls were lined with storage compartments, a few padded seats, and handrails embedded in the ceiling, oddly enough. Perhaps to use if the ship tipped over? The navigation room sat at the front, where a large, reinforced glass viewport gave them a clear view of the smooth, open sea ahead.
Kael sat at a terminal, tapping a few keys while Hollow was cross-legged on a padded bench, tossing a protein bar wrapper into a disposal chute and swaying to some music he was listening to from his tablet. Maeva sat with her back to them, eyes locked on a data pad. The redhead moved to the center console, tapped a few buttons, and brought up a holographic display of their location.
“Well, that’s unsettling,” Isla muttered, eyes scanning the first look at holographic technology—a map. “How’d they manage to get this below 450 watts?”
Brigid forced a smile. “I’m kind of used to it since we had this tech at my last station. Glyphs are inside, operating on a different medium than electricity. It’s still experimental, but the things previous cultures used them for are simple enough to adapt—like maps.”
“Uh-huh…” The ship’s position was marked as a blinking white dot. Site-X0 was a red triangle behind them. But the ocean? No gridlines. No reference points. No longitude. No latitude. No land. Just a primarily vast, gray expanse labeled UNMAPPED WATERS with only a single trim line leading toward a hazy landmass that was mainly shrouded in the same gray.
“Got a plan for getting back to the base if this goes out?” Isla asked, glancing at Brigid. “Once we’re out of sight from the base…there’s nothing to orient us—literally nothing.”
Brigid pulled a small, spherical object from a pouch on her hip. It looked like a compass, but the needle inside was made of a pale, crystalline shard that shimmered faintly with the same lilac hue she’d seen on the glyphs from the obelisk. Brigid held it up, tapping the glass cover twice. The needle shifted, turning smoothly to face backward—toward Site-X0.
“Obelisk compass—or that’s what my orientation packet called it,” Brigid stated, rolling it between her fingers. “It says it’s attuned to the big black spike back there. Always points toward it. The hologram has its own internal one that also tracks distance based on…pull strength, I assume.”
“Neat,” Isla muttered, leaning closer to examine it. “How accurate?”
Brigid’s eyes flicked to her. “Accurate enough—within a few miles, at least. The authors of the packet—whoever that was—warned us it might lose sync if we go too far from the obelisk. Fifty miles is the limit, supposedly. After that?” She shrugged, tucking the compass away. “Guess we get to figure out a way to navigate back to the island, which gives us a new forward base. Makes sense why this is the main priority mission. Only goes fifty miles, and the island is fifty miles away.”
“Comforting,” Isla muttered, looking back at the navigation screen. That also made her think it was by design. Did that mean there were other islands in other directions, and this was the only one they’d found, or had they sent other teams in all directions, and this was the only one that managed to transmit back information? “Tell me you have something better than that.”
“Nope,” Brigid replied, popping the ‘p’ with a grin. “Oh, and the best part? According to the scarab’s notes—yeah, they let me read ’em—the compass isn’t ours. It’s from the old civilization that lived here before AEGIS moved in. They only managed to get a few shards of the obelisk from some ancient storage room, and even then, our gear can’t cut it. Not saws. Not lasers. Not even the damn plasma cutters.”
“Great news all around,” Isla muttered, fingers brushing her face as she let out a slow breath and saw the other crew, besides Hollow, give each other glances. “So, we’re navigating with ancient alien tech and a compass that works until it doesn’t. Sounds peachy.”
“Welcome to AEGIS, Captain Babysitter,” Brigid quipped, flashing a grin before turning back to her console. “I’ll be sure to notify you if anything goes wrong. Usually it doesn’t…usually.”
Isla sat in the corner, tablet in hand. Her eyes scanned through the mission report. It had quite a few mentions of someone named ‘Scarab,’ which instantly brought her thoughts back to the brooch Evelyn wore between her bust. The blue glow it showed when the devil lady was getting a little handsy certainly sparked questions. Then, her brow furrowed as she reached a subsection labeled TIME DILATION.
Her eyes tracked the text, her heart rate picking up.
Time dilation observed. Current estimate: 30 minutes of desync for every 24 hours when beyond the 5-mile dimensional wall. Expansion rate unknown. Transmission delay detected during initial team’s final report. Cause: unknown.
Her hands tightened around the tablet. Time dilation. Dimensional instability. Shadows that vanish. Immortal fish. Ancient civilizations and abandoned research sites. How the hell did I get roped into this? Damn, I hate that I’m vibing with it all…
She scrolled down and couldn’t help but smile upon reaching a section about The Fog, recalling how insistent Evelyn had been. It showed in bold text here: DO NOT STAY AWAKE DURING THE FOG, WHEN NIGHTFALL COMES. SLEEP. SLEEP. SLEEP. MEDS SUPPLIED! TAKE THEM! THOSE WHO STAY AWAKE DISAPPEAR!
Her eyes flicked to that line three times, her fingers tapping the edge of the screen. Evelyn…why do you want us to sleep so bad? I can’t be sure to trust you when this whole place is basically virgin territory. You don’t know if it’s good or bad… Which is why you sent us out here in the first place. And you know I’m not the type to follow rules. If you don’t want me to do something, it makes me want to do it more, but you putting people’s lives in my hands makes me more accountable… Damn you and your forethought.
Then, she saw the next line that certainly wasn’t for the other members of the crew, the message practically dripping Evelyn’s smug, sophisticated tone:
In any exploratory expedition, if the leader is too cautious, nothing is ever discovered and it takes years to move an inch of research. Too brazen and foolish, the expedition disappears into the unknown forever. What I need is a special kind of stupid… You! Just rebellious enough to kick the timid into gear and with enough forethought to know when you’re being idiotic. Of course, you may lean more on the idiotic side of the scale… Enjoy!
Isla’s face dulled. A special kind of stupid, huh? I really do hate you.
Her stomach twisted. She glanced at her reflection in the glass of the viewport, staring back at herself for a moment longer than she should have.
Don’t stay awake. Don’t wander. And…it looks like we do have cameras on this boat, she noted, spotting the lenses and checking the info tablet for the details. These cameras are designed for the 450 watt limit… So, I guess that means the others on the base weren’t? That or Evelyn removed them for some other reason.
Her thoughts snapped back to the data about The Fog as her eyes flicked to the horizon. For the first time, she noticed it. A shimmer. Barely a flicker. Like a heatwave just above the water, distorting the line between sea and sky.
“Hey, Brigid?” Isla called out. Her voice didn’t carry as far as it should have.
The redhead glanced at her from her own tablet. “Yeah?”
“Do you see that?” Isla pointed. “On the horizon. Right there.”
Brigid squinted, gaze focused on the edge of the world.
Her eyes narrowed. Her face tensed. “Yeah,” she muttered, voice quieter now. “Yeah, I see it.”
She pressed a few buttons on the console, causing the lights to flicker before the hum of the ship’s engine shifted—just a half-note off-key. The closer they got, the more it became clear, a radiant solar sheet that weaved like drapes in the wind as far as the eye could see.
Everyone stopped what they were doing to look up at it, Kael mumbling a prayer and tracing a cross over his heart. Just as they were about to pass through it, Hollow pulled off his headphones and pointed to their left side. “Eh, Cap…”
Isla licked her lips as they passed through the veil, feeling a heat course through her in a rapid jitter that seemed to touch every nerve. And then, she saw it, too, a fog rolling in that hadn’t been there before.
Scrambling with her pack, she extracted the bottle, passing out the pills. “Let’s go. You’ve all read the report requirements. Brigid, are the cameras rolling—can we view it after?”
“Umm. Ack. Yeah,” she choked, swallowing the pill and pointing at a television set in the back. “They’re all independent, so we’ll have to remove their chips and insert it but—”
“Good. These are fast-acting, so get to your beds—now!”
The others didn’t hesitate and didn’t have to be told twice as they vanished to the gender-segregated cabin zones. She handed one to James as he showed up, armed to the teeth with some weapons that looked out of a Sci-Fi flick. He accepted the item but settled against the hallway wall outside of the rooms—to act as a guard, no doubt. The ship would stay on its current course so long as it wasn’t bumped, which wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.
The silent protective type. Sure…but I need to get to know his personality better through conversation when this is done. I need to know how he thinks… Here it is…
Thick. Pale. Heavy as oil on water. It seeped in from the edges of the sea, curling, twisting like long, clawed fingers reaching for the ship. Isla’s eyes locked on it, her heart thudding softly against her ribs in a steady, slow rhythm.
Should I stay awake? I want to… If someone saw the night, then it means there has to be a certain amount of time that passes before the disappearing part.
Her fingers curled tightly around the pill bottle as her gaze lingered on the fog ahead. She felt it first—a warmth washing over her skin, like stepping into the glow of an unseen sun.
Then it hit her.
A burst of light. No, not light. It was color—color unbound, unfiltered, and unleashed from every spectrum she could name and several she couldn’t. Threads of violet so rich they looked liquid. Bolts of red so deep they hummed in her bones. Cyan twisted through the air like dancing silk, splitting into fractals before folding back into itself. Waves of shifting oranges, blues, and greens bent like oil on water, but they weren’t reflecting light.
They were producing it. They whispered, sang in chords she didn’t realize she could hear. Her pupils dilated as her breath caught. It was a symphony of brilliance, raw and untamed, spilling out into the endless sea like an open wound in reality itself.
Not a flare. Not a flash. It lingered. Too long. Her eyes darted in every direction, each glance catching on something new, something breathtakingly wrong. There were symbols in it. Glyphs? No. More than that. They weren’t just shapes; they were concepts.
They twirled like constellations in the deepest black she could describe across a tapestry of light. A flash of a five-pointed spiral. A circle within a square. Two triangles that bled into one another until they became one. They glowed like neon stains on the backdrop of the fog, flickering too fast for her brain to hold onto them.
Her mind scrambled to lock them down. Hold it. Hold it. What are you trying to say? She tried to scream, only to hear nothing. Absolutely nothing. But the moment she thought she understood, they slipped away like water through her fingers.
Her fingers. The pills.
Her breath caught, eyes darting down as her fingers unclenched on their own. The pill bottle slipped free, rolling toward the deck rail. Her gaze stayed locked on her hand, fingertips tingling with static, her nerves vibrating like she’d brushed a live wire.
A shiver ran up her spine, her limbs going taut. Her fingers…they were moving slower than they should. No, not slower. Her breath hitched.
Time isn’t moving at the same speed.
Her gaze snapped to her wrist. Her watch. Her vision blurred as she tried to focus on its face. The second hand twitched like it was forcing itself forward—clack…clack…clack—each second stretching longer than it should. Her pulse quickened, but her mind felt too slow to keep up. Five minutes had passed.
Her heart thudded in her ears, louder than the engine’s purr. Five minutes! No, I should be asleep! She snapped her head up, wide-eyed and breath short.
The colors were gone.
The brilliance, the shifting shapes, the cosmic glow—the answer—gone.
Where are the pills?
All that remained was the fog. Thick. Opaque. Endless. It pressed against the ship from all sides, blinding her view of everything but the deck. Tendrils of it curled at the edges, moving in slow, curling loops that didn’t feel like air or mist. It looked like something alive. Not like fog rolling through the woods. No. This fog was aware. It swirled too purposefully, its movements deliberate, each coil a creeping limb reaching for something unseen.
Her eyes flicked toward one of those tendrils. It was subtle, just a faint shift in the fog. No more than a ripple. But something was there—long, slim, looking, studying…hungering.
Her breath stilled, and she didn’t move.
I can’t move… If I do, I know it will touch me. Devour me…
Her eyes didn’t blink. She stared at the spot where the fog had shifted, her heart caught in her throat. Her body went cold with that old, primal instinct—the one that says, “Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t be seen.”
A twitch—fingers? Mine or…something else? I don’t know.
The fog thickened as if reacting to her realization, curling tighter around the ship, smothering sound, air, and light. A flicker. No, a shape. Something moved just beyond the veil’s edge. A sound, like wind on the back of her neck. Then, something tall. Lean. It moved with liquid grace, too smooth to be human.
It wasn’t walking. It was…folding. Moving without steps. Each motion was a sharp, jerky shift from one space to the next, like frames missing from an old reel of film. Isla’s breath stayed locked in her chest. Her gaze didn’t shift. Her muscles stayed frozen, taut as a drawn bowstring.
It stopped.
No. It didn’t stop. She stopped. She was watching her now—something inside her—something that had always been there. Two pale lights flickered like twin embers in The Fog’s heart, spaced too far apart to be eyes but close enough to be worse than eyes—her eyes.
Isla’s heart jackhammered. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Sleep. I need to sleep—
Her head turned. Not fast. Not slow. Not panicked. Smooth. Deliberate. Like prey trying to pretend it hadn’t noticed the predator. Her pulse pounded in her ears, but she didn’t let her breathing hitch, didn’t let her steps make a sound. Her feet moved on instinct, smooth as flowing water, muscles locked in the primal “leave now” mode every human is born with.
She walked slowly. Silently. The pill bottle was just barely at the edge of the deck, almost tauntingly tilting toward the ocean’s embrace. She heard it, the rise and fall of the sea, getting louder and louder with every step.
Her eyes stayed forward.
Her shadowless reflection moved with her in the swirling waters as she peered over.
Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t—
She glanced back.
The Fog was still. No embers. No shapes. No signs of anything. Her fingers twitched, a tremble running up her arm as the air felt stiff as a porcupine’s needles. She sucked in a slow, steady breath, eyes darting to the hatch leading below deck as her hand closed around the pill bottle. When had she been reaching for it?
Don’t panic. Walk. Walk like nothing is wrong. It’s always worse when you run.
She hit the hatch, twisted it open, and slipped inside. The air felt heavier here. Not oppressive, but dense, like the fog had forced its way into her lungs, making her aware of every breath. She twisted the hatch shut with a slow, controlled motion, her fingers moving too steadily for her own comfort. She looked down, noticing a shadow now.
That…wasn’t there before. Why am I so calm? Why aren’t I screaming? Is…everyone else asleep? Why isn’t anyone screaming… Shouting? No, there is a sound, but…it’s something else.
Her gaze darted to the hallway where James sat by the doorway to the crew quarters, leaning against the wall. His hands were crossed, arms resting lightly on his large gun against his chest, head drooped. His head suddenly rose and shifted to her, his face unreadable behind his visor.
He’s asleep… I know he is. But…he’s moving? He’s looking at me. No, not him. Something inside him… Something possible. Something impossible.
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, the rattling pills in the bottle sounding too loud now. Her hands trembling now that she was out of The Fog’s reach, she edged past him into the woman’s quarters. I need to sleep. Evelyn was right… There’s something…possible here that is wrong. Just…wrong.
Abruptly, the warm heat that permeated the air cooled, the light faded, and for a brief moment, Isla saw the dark heavens through the ship’s hull. Her breath caught in her throat as she lingered by the window inside the cabin, the other two women already passed out on their bunks.
When did I get here? She plucked a pill out, almost instinctively, slowly, bringing it to her lips. Sliding it in, she let it move down her throat, feeling every nerve on the way into her belly firing off in blissful fireworks. A melancholy purr hummed through her as her eyes grew heavy. I want to go outside… I want to fly into space.
Eyes closing, her vision was clear, and she entered golden clouds of glory, where a unicorn was waiting for her to whisk her away. I’m home?
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