We Found an Abandoned Oil Rig on the Dark Side of the Moon | Part 3

I see sparks fly from the pile as I climb as fast as my body will allow. The Absalom operators are firing their carbines at me, and they aren't going easy on their triggers. I keep waiting for my life to be cut short by the impact of one of the high-speed bullets, but somehow I continue living. Then the sparks stop, and I have a feeling one of the operators looked over their shoulder and saw what was coming. I'd have loved to have seen the looks on their faces when they realized that, yes, that is a tsunami headed straight for them. And yes, it is impossible for a tsunami to be on the moon. Also yes, that a tsunami doesn't give a shit where it's supposed to be. It's coming this way whether it's impossible or not. Risking a glance down, I see half the operators following me up the ladder, while the other half try to make a run for their roller, which sits only a few yards away. I return my focus to my climb and struggle my exhausted ass back up onto the platform. When I'm through the hatch, I spin about and almost kick it closed on the operators who are trying to out-climb the tsunami. But when I see one of them lock eyes with me, and I recognize the pure fear and confusion in that look, I step back and let them climb onto the platform. One of them races at me, grabs me by my suit, and shoves me up against the pile. What is happening? What have you done? His voice screams at me over the comms, and it's then I truly realize that the entire time I was talking to Carlson or any of the dead things, it wasn't through the comms. I could hear them clear as day, despite my helmet's insulation. Man, I've got theories, but you wouldn't believe me even if I told you. Carlson might have been able to explain it, but you blow him to fucking pieces so that's not happening. The guy stares at me. Carlson? Who the hell is Carlson? I think it's the body at the bottom of the bile commander. Not it. He. I shove the fuming operator away from me. Guns are out and pointed at my helmet. How relaxed. I'm not the enemy. At least not one you need to worry about. You all have way bigger problems than my exhausted ass. Who are you? What's your name? One of the operators steps forward and sizes me up. Cheap exosuit found in a restricted area. Second hand roller parked a couple of hundred meters back. Probably the same one we thought we saw on the scanner. Which one of the scumballs do you work for, punk? They wait for an answer, but I have no intention of making things easier on them. Plus, if I do get out of this hell and Garner were to find out I'd ratted to absolute security, then I might as well walk out on airlock myself. Commander, we should get inside, like now, sir. I glance past the asshole in front of me and can see the top of the tsunami still racing straight for us. Better listen to your guy there. I nod at the oncoming wave. That thing doesn't care about restricted areas or scumballs. Then I really focus on the guy and look him dead in the eye. And it sure doesn't care about corporate drones like you bitches. It'll chew us all up and spit us all out the same way. He grabs me by my suit and yanks me over to the railing. I glance down and see the other half of the team hop into their roller. The guy grabs me by my helmet and forces me to look at the tsunami. What is it? A big fucking wave? Let me rephrase the questions you can give me a straight answer. I feel hands grab the back of my suit and start to lift me off the platform. Hey! Answer me, but you go over the side. It'll be a slow fall, but it'll still be a fall. And it's a long way down. He points at the wave, getting his helmet right up against mine so he can look me in the eye. What the hell is that? Before I can answer, a loud banging comes from the hatch in the platform's floor, the one we just climbed up out of. And it's loud enough for us all to hear it through our helmets. I laugh because I have a feeling I know who's knocking. Commander, it could be one of ours. Can't be. Everyone not up here just got into the roller. Are you sure, sir? The commander slams his palm against the railing. No, damn it. How could anyone be sure of anything right now? Let them up. You don't want to do that? He eyes me for a second than sneers. Shut up. He smacks my helmet and points at the tsunami again. The only words I want out of you are so you can explain what the hell that is. Exactly what it looks like. A big fucking wave. There's a shout from the comms, and the commander looks over his shoulder. I don't waste a second. I shove him as hard as I can and yank free of the hands holding me. I'm throwing elbows into exosuits and running down the platform right when the first screams begin. My heart is beating in my ears like thunder. Then I realize that the sound isn't my heart. It's the tsunami. I look to the side and see that it's almost on us. And just when I thought I'd hit my quota of impossible sights for the day, I see the Absalom roller tumbling and spinning up the surface of the massive wave until it's at the top, cresting the water, surfing like it's a tourist at the beach. But that's somewhat funny image only lasts a brief moment. The roller does one more spin. Then a swallowed hole by the giant wave, gone from sight in the blink of an eye. I need cover and I need it now. Turning left, I race down a walkway to a central structure with a single door. My gloves slap at the long handle. My pull, I twist, I yank hard. It refuses to move even a millimeter. Move over, I'll help. The commander shoulders into me and we both grab onto the handle. My gloves are cheap and bulky while his are sleek and streamlined. One of his gloves is probably worth more than my entire exosuit. We twist our bodies and pull up on the handle, straining as hard as we can until there is a loud thunk and the door swings open. I hold it open while he ducks inside. I check behind us, but there's no one there. The walkway is empty. Where are your guys? I follow him into the dark space. He doesn't answer. I switch my halogens to wide spectrum and stand at the open door, searching the platform for signs that more operators are coming. Commander, where are your guys? Close it. He sounds utterly defeated. They aren't coming. It's no skin off my nose for a couple of absolom security operators to go missing. I mean, I did warn them. So I slam the door closed and pull the inside handle down until it locks in place. Now I just pray the door stays closed when the tsunami hits. What was that thing? I shine my lights on him and he winces. Shielding his face plate with his hand. I scoff at the sight of his exosuit. Mine is huge. You could probably fit two of me in it. Is? It's form-vitting, probably tailored for his body only. And it is armored like nothing I've ever seen. I think of the pistol in my kit and highly doubt the bullets would even pierce his suit. I get close and he takes a step back. Stay where you are. You'll answer my question before taking another step. Since he's the guy with the car behind in his hands, I do as he says and stay where I am. My hands raised at chest level. That was a tsunami. A giant wave. I was at there. I don't. No, no. That's a dead thing. What was it? How could it survive what we threw at it and still climb that ladder to kill my guys? Well, that answers that question. Carlson. Carlson, what's that? That's his name. The dead thing, as you called it, is my partner. You mean what is your partner? Nothing like that is an ispal. Only a was. There's a banging at the door and we both look that way. Don't you open it. He warns me off by making sure the barrel of his car behind his aimed directly at me. If it's Carlson, I have to open it. But the problem is, I don't know if it's Carlson. That. And there's a tsunami headed straight for the rig. The banging rings out again. Then silence. It rings out a third time. Then silence. I look around the space. It's filled with equipment and tools. None looking younger than maybe mid-20th century. It's all analog from what I can tell. It's gone. I got my helmet and listen hard. But don't hear anything. Then I keep listening. Realizing something is missing. Where are you going? I told you to say, put. What the hell do you think you're doing? A thoughtfully built wardrobe really comes down to pieces that mix well, last, and don't make you feel like you overpaid. And that's exactly why I've been loving quint slightly. They make up everyday essentials using premium fabrics and thoughtful design without the luxury markup. I picked up one of their linen shirts and immediately noticed the quality. Light, comfortable, and not flimsy like cheaper linen. The shoes were the same deal. 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Because when it comes to unlocking your money's potential, we know wealth. Search HSBC wealth today. HSBC UK, opening up a world of opportunity. HSBC UK current account holders only. As he shouts at me, I walk over to the door. I lean against it, but can't hear anything. And it's not like I can take my helmet off and put my bare ear to the metal. But even with my helmet on, I should hear something. Anything. There's a damn tsunami coming for us. Accepted should have hit by now. I grabbed the doors handle, but before I can pull on it, I'm slammed inside. My arms pinwheels. I try to stay upright, but I fail and stumble back. Scooping over my own boots and go down hard. All I see is the barrel of a carbine in front of my visor. I look past that to the commanders enraged face. What the hell did you think you were doing? The tsunami should have hit by now. But you have knocked this oil rig off its piling already. Eglars down at me, then blinks and looks around. Oil rig. That's what this is. Before I can answer, there's a polite knocking from the other side of the door. Is your tower? Are you in there? If so, could you come out now? Your friend would like to say something to you. Who the hell is that? The commander spins and takes aim at the door. Ignoring him, I get back to my feet. Then I ease by him and grab the handle. Stop. Trust me. It doesn't make a difference. He's toying with us. He can open that door anytime he wants. Without waiting to see if I'm going to be shot, I pull the handle up and shove the door open. The marked man and some of his nasties are standing there. One of them shoves a body forward. It's Carlson, just as rotted and gross as the others. They're like they were when we first stepped onto the rig. Sorry, man, we tried. A piece of Carlson's bottom lip falls off and plops onto the deck. He goes to bend down to pick it up, but hands grab him and keep him upright. Then one of the jerks kicks the lip off the walkway. Ah, come on. What are you? Where's that damn wave? What is happening? I don't like how his hands are shaking as he holds his carbine. From what I can tell, he's five seconds from completely losing his shit. I'd rather not be standing close when he does. Wave? The marked man looks over his shoulder. Then back at the commander. What wave is that commander, Silo? All I see is dust and rocks. How do you know my name? He points the carbine directly at the marked man's head. Start talking or I start shooting. Oh, wait. I'm sorry. Did I say all I see are rocks and dust? My mistake. What I really see is a vast endless ocean. Don't you, Commander Silo? The moon scape ripples and morphs into the endless ocean again. As the landscape changes, so do the marked man and his gang. Their clothes become whole. Has to do most of their bodies. Although a couple of them are still showing some rot, which is interesting. That hadn't happened before. There's a loud gasp in my comms, and I see Commander Silo's carbine slowly dip until it's just dangling in his grip. The barrel aimed at the deck. No, this isn't real. This can't be real. Yeah, real is irrelevant here. I turned my attention from the commander to the marked man. And I think so are you. The marked man cocks his nasty head. Oh, and that was that. I reach out and grab Carlson's arm, yanking him into the space. Then I slam the door closed and throw the handle. Where do we go, Carlson? How do we move about this damn place? He shakes his head and wobbles on his feet. You think it's tougher? I told you that. Take it. Take what? The commander's carbine is back up and aimed at Carlson. You killed my man. But you're a zombie, a dead husk. Not the handsome stud you see now. Carlson and I look at each other and both laugh. The commander surges forward and jams the carbine's barrel against Carlson's forehead. How are you here without an exosude? I think because, like you said, I'm dead. Carlson looks at me. What do you think, dober? Big sense. Nothing makes sense. This is bang on the door. The commander whips the carbine in that direction and pulls the trigger. Even with my helmet on, the noise is nearly deafening. Bullets ricochet in every direction. And I throw myself at the ground trying to make my bulk as flat as possible. Shit, you asshole. The gunfire has stopped. And I roll onto my back, then angle my helmet to the side. Carlson has his hands around the commander's collar and is lifting him high into the air. A pool of black blood grows at Carlson's feet. Dad doesn't mean I can't be killed or hurt or feel pain. He throws the commander across the space. The absolute man slams into what looks like an oversized jackhammer and crumbles to the floor. He doesn't move. Carlson picks up the carbine, takes aim at the fallen commander, puts his finger inside the trigger guard and squeezes. Nothing happens. Carlson tosses the carbine to the side. Damn biometric lock. The fists keep banging on the door. Carlson looks that way in frowns. Why aren't they getting inside? Tashin' on you. Before he can answer, the commander sturs. He rolls over onto his back. Inside his helmet, blood pours from a gash on his forehead. I walk over and stand over him. His eyes flutter and he tries to focus on me. But a swift kick to the temple of his helmet knocks his head into the other side. Look at those eyes close fast. We'll leave him behind. Alive. Carlson shakes his head. Not the best idea. Do you think he can navigate this hill? Good point. There's a door at the far side of the space and I point at it. Where does that go? Carlson grins. Where do you want it to go? Home would be nice, but I'll take anywhere but here. Then let's have a look. Leaving commander's silo behind, we walk to the door, look at each other. The nod and both grab the long handle. We each almost lose our balance as the handle moves easily. Like it has been recently greased. I shove the door open and we stare at the new scene. That's different. On the other side of the door is a meadow. And not just any meadow. It's one close to where I grew up before my life went to shit and I ended up in the foster system. Without waiting, I walk through the door. Carlson follows and both of us step into the tall grass and long stemmed wildflowers. I look behind me and gasp. The oil rig looms off in the distance. But the door we came through is right here close enough to touch. Back in. I step back through the door. Carlson lingers and I have to reach out and pull him in with me. And I close the door, count to three and open it again. There are people milling about, hurrying from task to task or just sitting and talking. That's the heartwood lounge. The one on the top level of NBC. A woman is about to put a bite of muffin in her mouth, then freezes. The pastry halfway to her lips. Her eyes go wide and the bite and muffin tumble from her grip. Her companion glances over his shoulder at us and gapes. They can see us. I slam the door closed and grab Carlson by the upper arms, giving him a shake. They can see us, Carlson. Whoa, whoa, easy there. I'm not as solid as I'd like. He carefully plucks my fingers from his arms. And that was probably just a trick. This place messes with you, Tava. Remember? Yeah, well, let's see about that. I pull the door open once more and ammet with the screaming wind and a thousand creatures made of fur and teeth, racing toward us as a blizzard rages around them. Carlson and I have to use all of our strength to get the door closed again. A few snowflakes flutter about us, then settle on the deck. I've never seen it do this before. The locations have always been something related to this oil rig. This is new. How would you know? You've only been here a few hours. He turns slowly and stares at me and says, Infinite is the horror. Forever is the nightmare. Benny shakes his head and frowns. I wish what you said was true, Topper. But I have been here a lot longer than a few hours. Feels like I've always been here. He looks down at his feet. Like I'll always be here. Don't worry, man. We'll figure it away. The door is ripped open and a thousand tentacles grabbed me, pulling me past Carlson and into a deep void. I scream for help and reach for the doorframe, but I'm already meters, then kilometers, away from the open door before I can even raise my arms. All I see is a small spot of light. Then it winks out, and I'm plunged into a blackness that feels more impossible than the raging ocean or the charging tsunami or any of the madness I've witnessed. Complete and total sensory deprivation is my new reality. I am drowning in the absence of everything, consumed by the infinite nothing. Then these words escape my lips and my feeling of falling, flying, being thrown, being devoured and swallowed, suddenly ceases. Infinite is the horror, forever is the nightmare. As soon as the words have been uttered, I shake my head and mutter over and over. No, no, no, no, no, no. Yes! My heart stops beating, and my mind goes completely blank. Then there is an explosion, as if light has been just invented, and the darkness is pushed back. In its place is an undulating, squarming, twisting and wriggling thing. Yes! Double! I don't ask what it is. I don't ask who it is. I don't really care. I'm way past those questions. And I realize I'm way past all questions. All I know is… Infinite is the horror, forever is the nightmare. Yes! I stare straight into the wriggling mass. You are the horror, you are the nightmare. Yes! And so am I. Yes! A feeling of deep longing and painful regret fills my insides. There's no way out of this. There never was. While I haven't met the same fate as Carlson, I have met a fate. And it is an undulating, squarming, twisting and wriggling thing. Infinite is the horror, forever is the nightmare. I reach up and place my hands on my collar. A tentacle slides from the mass and wraps up my wrist. Not yes! No explanation is needed. I nod and lower my hands. The tentacle withdraws back into the mass after whispering a name to me. Infinite feels like I have been shot out of a rocket at 100 G's. I scream as a small dot of light grows and grows and grows and I see Carlson standing at the door. Benny's jumping to the side and I'm flying through the doorway, my exosuit, straining to stay intact. Not that I needed anymore. I collide with a piece of machinery, bounce off and skid across the floor until I'm right by the first door. Slowly, I push up onto my hands and knees, glancing at Carlson on the opposite side of the space as he picks himself up. What the sh** was that? The next door to him clang shut. And the one next to me, slowly opens. Mr. Topper, that was rude to shut me out like that. Demarked man throws a kick into my midsection and I oof as I am sent rolling. When I bump up against Commander Silos' body, I feel him shift a little. That's good. Very good. I grab onto the huge jackhammer thing and pull myself to my feet. Topper, look out. I spin and see the wrench coming from my helmet and I'm just barely able to duck in time. While I keep my helmet visor from being shattered, I can't stop the same outcome from happening with my shoulder. The wrench comes down so hard that my entire left side goes numb. I must have hit a major nerve. So sad, Mr. Topper. You could have joined us. Could have helped me rule forever. With my good arm, I hang onto the jackhammer, using it to keep me upright. Then I give the man a big grin. For a dead man, you've got quite a swing. Who says I am dead? I'm not dead. I'm more alive than I have ever been. I look past him, hoping to see what I think I'll see. I do. And I'm glad I'm already grinning. Or I'd give it all away. The marked man rolls his eyes at my widening grin. But if you're looking for a dead man, then you can look in the mirror. He lifts the wrench high over his head. I don't think so, Asher. My words stop in midlift. The confident madness from only a millisecond ago slips some. Why did you call me? Why did you hear that name? It doesn't matter. Not something you need to know. Tell me! Why did you hear that name? The wrench wobbles in his grip as he tries to lift it higher. But I can see that's never going to happen. His strength, his power, is going, draining from him before my eyes. What is this? The marked man, a person known eons ago as Asher Postulius, begins to tremble uncontrollably. What is happening? I straighten up and shuffle to the side, well out of range of the dangerously unstable wrench. When I look over at the marked man's guys, and see some of them trembling also, while their bodies begin to rapidly deteriorate from the semi-normal looking workers to the undead, rotted workers I first witnessed. The ones who aren't trembling and falling apart take several hurried steps to the side, away from the others. And oil teas will reveal themselves. I look over and see Carlson staring at me. I nod. E nods. When I move in close to the marked man, and press my visor against his ear, he's barely able to withstand the pressure and almost topples over. The wrench wobbles and nearly slips from his shaky grip. Infinite is the horror. Forever is the nightmare. The marked man recoils, then his eyes go wide. No, you can't have those words. They are mine. They were promised to me. Not anymore. Taking a step back. I put my gloves to my collar and undo the clasps. Chopper! No! I ignore Carlson and twist my helmet, then lifted up over my head, letting it fall to the ground. I take a deep breath, tasting the impossibility everywhere on my tongue. The marked man gasps and falls to his knees. He loses his grip on the wrench, and it clatters to the deck beside him. When he looks up at me, his sunken and almost hidden eyes are filled with confusion, pain, and betrayal. It said I was the one. Good-lied. Then I slowly take my gloves off as the marked man. Asher, Astulius watches me. His gaze, communicating his complete and utter defeat. This was my dominion. I was to rule. I unzip my kit and pull out the pistol. With my gloves off, my finger fits perfectly in the trigger guard. I place the barrel of the gun to Asher's temple. Yeah, well, infinite is the horror. Forever is the nightmare, Asher. I squeeze the trigger. His head explodes, and everything around me spins. I'm no longer standing in some equipment storage room on an oil rig. No. I'm standing on the edge of a volcano on some distant planet. Then I'm falling through sulfurous clouds. I'm buried deep inside a crystal mine. I'm floating on the edge of a nebula. I'm digging through blood-colored sand. I'm laughing with a Yeti. I'm screaming out of behemoth with a trillion eyes. I'm sipping wine with a room full of cats. I'm eating apples, but they aren't apples. I'm singing a song that hasn't been sung before. Then I'm back on the oil rig, and Carlson is standing before me, pointing at the open door. I think that's for you. There's a scene I recognize instantly beyond the door frame. So far, no one is looking this way. Thanks. I've had his shoulder as I hand him the pistol. Then I walk past him, heading straight for the door. I don't pause at the threshold. I just keep going until I'm on the other side. It takes a moment before I'm noticed. When I am, people scream and scramble out of their seats. Some climb over their desks, trying to get away from me as fast as they can. Security personnel shout for me to put my hands up, for me to get down on my knees, for me not to move. They rush me, and a hundred carbines are aimed in my direction. I take a deep breath. Infinite is the horror, forever is the nightmare. The guards jolt. Then each puts the barrel of their carbines under their chins. Not yet. They freeze in place. Then I look at the terrified faces all around the huge assembly area. Ladies and gentlemen of the United Nations, I am here to tell you that you have made a big mistake. Mal's hang open, and eyes bug out. The dark side of the moon is not open, and it never will be. So please do us all a favor and let it go. Just walk away. No expeditions, no corporate interference, no crime bosses. The dark side of the moon is permanently off limits. Am I understood? The mouths hanging open slowly close. The bugged out eyes returned to normal, and brows furrow over them. Hands fall away from cheeks and go to wristcams. A thousand angry voices erupt as one and assail me. I sigh and shake my head. I didn't think you'd understand. The delegates of Earth's nations continue to shout at me. They wave fists, and some even throw things like pencils and coffee mugs. Nothing reaches me. Anything even close bounces off the backs and shoulders of the frozen security guards standing in front of me. Their carbines still pressed under their chins. People like you never do understand. You think of your houses and your riches and your status and your corporate earnings and your petty power plays, but you never look beyond to see what is truly at the center of all of this. I spread my arms wide. Infinite is this horror. Forever is this nightmare. The guards' carbines go off at once. Blood and brains and bone shoot high into the air like a grotesque confetti cannon. The United Nations General Assembly goes silent, and I savor the absence of noise. But it is short-lived as pure panic sets in, and everyone rushes for the assembly room's exit doors. I let them flee. I let them panic. I let them leave. Turning on my heel, I walk back to the door. It slams closed behind me. That was something. Carlson eyes me weirdly. I'm a bum. Topper. The eye Carlson? What are you? I'm everything and nothing. A shot rings out, and I look down at my suit. A smoking hole is dead center. I look back up and see Commander Silo standing across the room. His carbine do his shoulder. I stick a finger in the hole and withdraw it. No blood. I hold the finger up and shake my head. That may have worked a few minutes ago, Commander, but you lost your window. I nodded the men who used to belong to Asher Pustulius, the ones who aren't piles of dust and rags on the ground, that is. Bring him. Before the commander can turn his carbine on them, they have him in their grasp. His weapon clatters to the deck, and he is dragged to a spot only inches from me. I'll be honest, Commander. I'm still figuring all this out. But there's one thing you should know. What's that? I can't lose. I pat his cheek, and he recoils at my touch. I don't blame him. The skin on my hand is modeled and marred. I stare at it for a moment. Then I reach up and undo the zippers and clasps, holding my exosuit on. I yank the top half of my suit up over my head, tossing it to the ground at the commander's feet. He tries to step back, but my men keep him in place. The cool air feels delightful on my skin, cooling me through my sweat-soaked t-shirt. I look at my arms and see the sigils and scars and burns and cuts. But there's no pus, no rod. I slip out of the exosuit's legs and kick them aside. Then I get close to the commander's face again. Tell them that the old ways are over. Tell them that if they want to hold onto what little power they still have, they'll never cross the shuttle line again. This, this is madness. Then he clears his throat and straightens his spine. I don't know how you are doing this, but I know it's all bullshit. When I tell my superiors about this place, they'll bring everything they have and wipe you off the face of the moon. They'll try. They'll fail. I nodded my men, and they dragged the commander away. Take him to his roller. It should still be out there with what's left of his team. Might be a little banged up, but it'll get them back to MCB. The commander kicks and fights and curses the entire time. He's dragged across the deck by my men. His tantrum is unbelievably annoying, so I'm glad when he's finally pulled from the equipment space and out onto the walkway. A quick glance tells me that outside, there is no impossible ocean or massive tsunami. There is only the dark side of the moon. When the door closes, I turn and look around me. We should move that chair in here. This is a much better space than that stinky tomb of a room Asher was using. Topper. Yakar Olsen? What the fuck, man? My shrug. Good question. He looks toward the closed door and then back at me. You know he's right. They're going to send everything they have at this place. Let them come. I smile. There's a new marked man in charge now. Hey, know what Carlson? What? Infinite is the horror. Forever is the nightmare. He nods with understanding. We both do. It's going to feel good being in charge for a change. Thanks for tuning in. If you enjoyed the story, be sure to follow or subscribe and share the show with a fellow horror fan. I'll see you in the next one.