Echoes in the Dusk Page #3

• Science fiction

								


**Traveling in this place is a nightmare. Each step is a fight, my aching body struggling as the mud grips onto my legs and tries to pull me deeper into the swamp. A humid heat hangs over everything. The putrid smell rushes up with every break of the surface, keeping any semblance of fresh air from reaching my lungs. 

I stop, my body giving into exhaustion. My vision starts to blur at the edges. A lightness overwhelms my head and I’m forced to lean on my knees to keep myself from toppling over into the grime. 

A mistake, I can feel myself sinking deeper. The water now up to my knees. 

I scan the surroundings and spot a nearby tree root that should support my weight, at least enough to let me rest for a moment. I start to motion towards it, only to find myself stuck in place. 

My legs won’t move. The tar like water has reached past my knees, sealing me into a swallowing pit that will slowly pull me under. My breathing is shallow and I can feel panicked desperation rising up in my chest. 

*Remember your training*

I start to move from side to side, swinging the free parts of my torso and upper legs back and forth to try to create a temporary bubble of air around my legs. 

The motion gives me just enough space, the iron grip temporarily releasing me as I manage to lift my legs up slightly. 

After what feels like an eternity, my left foot comes free and I manage to take a triumphant step forward. With a final effort, I pull my other leg free and manage to take a few stumbling steps in the direction of my goal. A sense of elation fills me, though I’m not sure if that’s from setting myself free or if the fumes are affecting my senses. 

I let out a gasping laugh. “Oh, that would have been bad.” I say to no one. 

My steps are short and wobbling but I’m making progress. The tree root grows closer, only a few more yards.

The sound of rushing water and cracking wood reaches my ears, rising like the roar of a great engine, quick and all-consuming. I turn towards the sound, setting my feet as best I can, my hand dashing towards the long knife at my back. 

All I see are teeth. Rows upon rows of yellowed teeth running along the edge of a maw covered in the natural bone plating of a Mud Tyrant. Its mouth big enough to surround my body.

*I moved too much in the mud. Injured prey thrashes and it attracts predators.* 

The snapping of its jaws as they close around me echoes like a thunderclap across the swamp. I’m swallowed whole. 

Pain. All I feel is pain. 

Most of it is coming from just below my knees. It only managed to bite most of me. 

The inside of the Tyrant is wet and warm. The inner muscles of its mouth working seamlessly to shove me deep into its throat, at the same time they crush me with their strength. Some detached part of my mind finds this interesting. 

Blood is pooling in my mouth, its sticky wetness mixes with the saliva and digestive fluids around me. I try to take a breath, if only to scream in agony but there is no air here and I choke on fresh blood and acrid bile. 

There is a jerk of motion and I can tell we’re moving. The Tyrant is diving back under the swamp waters to rest and digest. 

*Digests me.* 

I’m twisted into a rough ball. Darkness surrounds me. Acid and fluids designed to break down every part of my body start their work as my flesh is slowly eaten way. I imagine this is what being set on fire is like, while also drowning. 

*I hope Elara didn’t have to go through this too.*

*Elara. I’m sorry. I couldn’t save you.*

*I’m sorry…*

My eyes sting as fresh tears flow out of me. Try as I might, there is no air to breathe. My body starts to convulse in the final death throws, a futile attempt to survive. 

*Survive*

The image of the BioSym canister flashes into my mind. A bleak ray of possibility, trapped inside my bag. 

*Move. Your daughter is waiting.*

My body jerks. The edges of my consciousness fading into the surrounding darkness. My lungs burn, crying out for any hint of air. The flaring agony below my knees screams as I push outwards against the walls of the stomach, trying to make enough room to allow me to reach the bag on my back. 

My left arms twist, trying to reach the flap that holds the canister. I can feel my fingers scraping against the edge of it, just out of reach. 

*She’s waiting for me.* 

Keeping my left arm in place, I twist the rest of my body inward, curling into a ball again and ripping my shoulder from the socket with the motion. The pain surges outward, up my arm and into my chest.

*She’s waiting.*

I can feel the smooth surface of the container, securely in my hand. With my right arm, I pull on what remains of my left, using it as a crane to pull the canister to me. 

I break the seal, grabbing the pulsing bundle of tissue. It feels cool to the touch, the tiny fibers gently grasping my fingers, as if it knows what comes next. 

My hand moves up, pressing the bungle into my mouth along with a gulp of stomach fluids and blood. 

I swallow, feeling it worm its way down into my core. 

Cracking bones and tearing muscles form an oddly harmonic tune when removed from pain. There is a beauty in it, a resurgence. This is no longer a stomach, it is a womb. The place of my creation.

The pain flushes away, replaced by a comforting warmth that spreads from the deepest part of my core, washing away all things that do not comply with its existence. 

Then, I move and the motion is absolute. The resistance of muscle and flesh that surrounded me gives way without a fight. Fresh blood rushes inward, enveloping me in its embrace. 

I rip and tear. I am made for it. The walls that held me now fall away like tissue paper. I can feel the Tyrant moving, thrashing in a familiar way. Trying to get away from the source of its pain.

*I understand you, my friend. Your suffering will soon end.* 

I feel a final breaking, and fresh air fills the space that was once occupied by flesh. A rush of sensations strike me all at once, threatening to overwhelm my sense. Each sound is crisp and clear, the beats of insects’ wings casting long tunes against my ears. I breath in and the smell is a cacophony. The vile scents of things decomposing in the water, the acrid-sweet aroma of bile and blood. My eyes open and the world is a tapestry of color and texture. The shape of each tree branch, the shifting of moonlight light against mud and water. 

*Beautiful.* 

I look down and I find myself at the surface of the swamp once more. The remnants of the Tyrant lay at my feet, its body carved in two from within.

“I did this.” The voice is distant and strange. Filled with detached interest. 

The blood of the Tyrant spreads out in an expanding pool of darkness, mixing with the brackish water and creating a black mirror which casts my reflection back at me.  

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