Hatching Evil | SCP-3199 (Part 2)

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As I leaned over, hands on my knees, I said, So what are you, like some kind of celebrity in this fucked up place? I half expected Tanner to tell me to get back to work, but maybe he could see that I was tired and needed a break. Something like that, he said, shrugging his big shoulders. Highly flammable fluid sloshed in the twin containers strapped to his back. That sound planted the seed of an idea, but at the time it had yet to germinate. My bigger concern at the moment was making sure Tanner didn't set both Denson and me on fire. I wondered where Hemric had disappeared to, whether he was still alive. But again, that wasn't a major concern. How so? I asked, prompting him to elaborate. How can you get away with killing a guy and not get thrown into the shoe? Tanner scoffed. Man, there ain't no special housing unit here. This is the punishment. You're in it right now. They throw you into an experiment with some crazy creatures that shouldn't exist and see if you can survive. It just so happens that I don't see it as a punishment, and I happen to be very good at killing these crazy ass creatures. Oh yeah, I get special treatment, because I do their dirty work for them. That's the long and short of it. If you're so damn good at killing these things, why are you making me do it? Tanner's face went to shade darker in the dim illumination from the pilot flame. He glared at me and said nothing. I smiled. Oh, you finally met your match. Shut the fuck up and get back to work. I raised my hands and surrendered. Okay, okay. I trudged over to the board. I pulled off the structure. The nails on both sides were bent now. Some of them broken off from me smashing them into the egg. Leave it. Tanner snapped. You already tried everything with the board. Not everything. I said, standing next to the board. I want to put it on top of the egg and stack a bunch of rocks on it. See if we can crush the thing that way. Tanner considered this for a moment before nodding. Fine. I grabbed the board and turned with it, heading back to the egg. Tanner was behind me, next to Denson. Upon reaching the egg, I lifted the board as if to put it on top. As fast as I could, I whipped around and threw the board at Tanner. As he danced out of the way, Tanner pressed the trigger on the flamethrower, sending a tongue of flame into Denson, who immediately started screaming as the burning fuel engulfed him, sticking to his clothes, his skin, his hair. I had no time for dismay or surprise. I was barreling toward Tanner, no idea what I would do when I got to him. The board sailed past him, traveling through the flame as it went, catching fire before it skidded across the ground. He whipped the flamethrower toward me as I closed in, but I got to him just before the trailing flame could touch me. I ducked down and batted his arm up. Because he was still squeezing the trigger, the plume of fire arced into the sky and then rained down around us like a volcano. He backpedaled as I continued to shove, punching him in the throat with my free hand. It was like punching a tree, but the hit elicited a grunt and sharp inhale. Flaming fuel fell onto my back, where it quickly burned through my orange jumpsuit and undershirt, sizzling on my skin. It was enough to distract me momentarily, so I wasn't prepared for Tanner's left fist whipping at my head. His knuckles struck my temple and knocked my whole world to skew. I let go of him, stumbling away until I fell to the ground. He stopped moving backward, regaining his equilibrium. At some point in the last few heartbeats, he had taken his finger off the flamethrower's trigger. Now, as he pointed the nozzle at me, he smiled. I tried to get to my feet, but my legs didn't want to work. It felt like the world was still spinning. My blurry vision fixed on the pilot flame as I waited for my impending death. Tanner put his finger on the trigger, then a wave of heat passed close by, and I looked over to see Denson sprinting past me, engulfed in flames, but no longer screaming. Tanner whipped the flamethrower at the approaching man and let loose. The flames hit Denson, but he was already on fire. It was a miracle he was still alive. Too late, Tanner realized his mistake. He backpedaled, this time of his own accord, still squeezing the trigger. Maybe if he'd turned to run, he would have had a chance, but he didn't. Denson launched himself at the man and wrapped him in a bear hug. Some of the flaming liquid transferred to Tanner, even as he dropped the nozzle and tried to pry the blazing man off him. The two of them fell to the ground, but Denson held tight. Tanner screamed as the flames seared his skin. As I watched in awe, slowly recovering from the blow to the head, I realized that if I wanted to make it out of here alive, I needed that flamethrower. I wasn't sure what it would take for the fuel tanks to explode, but I didn't want to risk it. Altingly, I got to my feet and stumbled over to the board. One end of it was still on fire, so I grabbed the other end and ran over toward the flaming man. Tanner had finally wrenched Denson off of him, probably because the man was now dead, but he was still screaming, panicking as he tried to swat the flames out. He was in bad shape, much of his skin bubbling, his hands dripping melted flesh. I didn't hesitate when I reached him. I swung the flaming end of the board into his head. The first hit didn't knock him out, but it stopped his screaming. The second hit split his skull open. The third killed him. Throwing the board down, I grabbed Tanner by one leg and dragged his body away from Denson's flaming corpse. Working carefully but still burning my hands, I got the flamethrower off of him. It wasn't too hard, because one of the carrying straps had already burned through. I dragged the contraption away from him and fell to a sitting position, huffing once again through exertion and pain. The gob of flaming fluid that had landed on my back had gone out, but I had a large third degree burn there, and the pain was immense. Not to mention the burns on my hands and the various injuries to my head from Tanner and the creature I had killed. As I sat there, flamethrower between my legs, trying to catch my breath, I saw movement nearby. The egg I had been trying to destroy was moving. A crack formed in it, and another, and another. The creature was hatching. I shook my head. Fuck me. With the flamethrower tanks hanging from one remaining strap, I had to lean to my left to keep the pack from falling off my shoulder. I pointed the nozzle at the hatching egg, waiting for the right moment. Tanner had said that the flamethrower wasn't ideal for destroying eggs, but what about newly hatched creatures? It was worth a shot. As soon as the only a mother-could-love face emerged from the thick, cracked egg shell, its glowing eyes and lipless mouth swiveling toward me, I squeezed the trigger. A gout of flame shot out and engulfed the creature's head. It screamed. The noise, so high-pitched, I covered my ears. It pulled back into the egg, but I aimed the flame directly at the crack and kept the pressure on the trigger. The screaming continued, even as the thing leaped out of the egg and ran away, completely enshrouded in dancing flames. It didn't make it far before collapsing. Its screams dying down to nothing, soon replaced by the sizzle and crackle of the fire eating its flesh. I took my finger off the trigger and eased toward the burning creature. And I watched as an egg about the size of a bowling ball emerged slowly out of the smoldering remains. Once it was out of the mouth, it settled against the creature, the slowly dying flames licking its sides. Damn, I said, hardly believing my eyes. The egg grew as it sat there. I moved to it and kicked it away from the flames. It stopped growing so fast once it cooled. I had bought myself some time. After peering around to make sure I was still alone, I moved back over to the remnants of the hatched egg. It was still hot, but the flames from the flamethrower had died down. I waited for it to cool before inspecting what remained of the shell, looking for anything I could use to my advantage. The material felt nothing like any egg I'd ever seen. It was tough and rubbery, but stiff on the inside, like a piece of metal covered with a thick layer of rubber. Of course, I had felt this on the outside while trying to destroy the egg, but seeing that it was the same on the inside made me want to scream. The things seemed invincible until the creature hatched from inside, but by then it was too late. Still, I kept looking, inspecting every square inch of the shell, inside and out, for some sign of weakness. In one hand sized piece of shell, I noticed a thin area about the size of a quarter where the shell tapered in on both sides. At the thinnest part of this divot, it was about half an inch thick. Excited, I hustled over to the intact egg and started turning it over, running my fingers all over it, searching for a similar spot. Minutes later, I found it. Only on this egg, which was much smaller, the weak point was about the size of a dime. Still, it was there. It was hope. That hope lasted about an hour, fading a little each time I failed to break through the weak point of the egg. I tried everything I could think of, even pulling another board off the structure and hitting it with nails. Nothing worked. It wasn't a weak point after all, which meant I would never get out of here. I would die as soon as I ran out of flame thrower fuel. As I tried to gently press on the divot, thinking maybe Finesse was the way to go, I grew frustrated at my lack of progress. And then I lost it. I got to my feet and screamed at the divot, then spit on it. That gave me another idea. A better one. I had to pee anyway, so I extracted myself from my jumpsuit and proceeded to urinate on the egg, aiming my stream right at the divot. Grimacing with sour joy, I cursed at the egg until my bladder emptied and I was left with only my anger to fill me up. Tucking myself away, I turned my back on the egg and then stopped, my brow furrowing. But I just see what I thought I saw. Turning slowly back around, I peered down at the divot on the egg. The strange material was bubbling slightly where I'd peed on it, as if my urine was breaking the shell down, but only at that one spot, at the divot. I got closer, stepping onto the urine-soaked ground, the ammonia smell invading my nostrils. No, it wasn't just at the spot where I'd peed, it was where my spit had landed. The irregular lines connecting the areas where my gobs of saliva had been were bubbling, eating away at the rubbery shell. I tried to remember if my spit had been doing that before I peed, but I hadn't been paying that much attention. It was either my spit or the combination of spit and urine. Either way, it was progress. Settling down, I watched for a while, hoping it would eat through the entire shell. After a few minutes, the bubbling stopped, leaving the shell compromised but intact. I snagged a sharp rock I had used earlier to try and break the shell. This time, when I slammed the stone into the shell at the divot, some of the material chipped away. Grinning, I struck the egg again and again with the rock until I cracked through the shell, creating a little hole at the divot. Then I turned and looked at the flamethrower. The seed that had been planted when Tanner shrugged earlier, causing the liquid to slosh in the tanks, had sprouted a seedling. It was time to see if it would bear fruit. I stood back from the egg, flamethrower hanging off one shoulder. The pilot light lit at the end of the nozzle. The pack was slightly lighter now that I had poured some of the fuel into the egg, making a mess as I did so. Figuring out how to get fuel out of the flamethrower took a while, but I did it. I was thankful that there was a sticker on the thing cautioning me against trying to open it while it was still pressurized. I had assumed that both the tanks contained fuel, but I was wrong. One of them held CO2, which helped propel the flaming fuel out of the nozzle. Once I depressurized the weapon, I unscrewed the fuel tank cap and poured the liquid into the shell. After that, I replaced the cap, repressurized the system, and reignited the pilot flame. Now, standing well back from the egg, I was ready to let loose. But before I could press the trigger, the sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention. I peered in that direction, but I couldn't see anything beyond the wooden structure. The footsteps grew closer, and any hope I held of them belonging to Hamrick was dashed when an ear-splitting scream erupted into the night. A moment later, one of the huge creatures rounded the near side of the structure and stopped. Its eerie eyes flitting from me to the damaged egg and back again. It screamed again, but this time there was an unmistakable undertone of anger. It charged forward. The egg was between me and the creature, which was a stroke of luck. I aimed the nozzle at the creature, pressed the trigger, and sent a tongue of flame out. The creature dodged back away from the flame, so I changed direction, swiveling it toward the egg. The gasoline I had spilled all over the place ignited first, crawling up toward the hole in the divot. The creature screamed again, changing direction and rushing at me once more. Then the egg exploded. It was like a bomb going off. A wave of superheated air crashed into me, throwing me back, and knocking the flamethrower out of my hand and off my back. I smacked the ground hard and rolled awkwardly, a cascade of pain crashing through my body. I certainly hadn't expected the thing to explode. I was just hoping to cook the creature inside, hoping unhatched ones didn't already have another egg ready to go in their little bodies. As I struggled to my feet, the creature screamed again and rushed toward me, now engulfed in flames. Knowing the flamethrower wouldn't do any good, even if I could reach it in time, I scrambled away from the creature, hoping I could outrun it long enough for the flames to finish. The creature finished the job. But as I got to my feet, I fell immediately back down again. My left leg couldn't support my weight. The creature closed the distance as I scrambled up again, this time staying up and limp running away. I wasn't fast enough. The creature closed in, still screaming. I could feel the heat from the flames curling the hair on the back of my head. Knowing I couldn't outrun it, I dropped to the ground, turning halfway to land on my hands and knees. As I hoped it would, the creature kept coming, not able to stop fast enough to dodge me. Its flaming legs crashed into my side, knocking me over and catching my jumpsuit on fire. But it toppled over, smacking into the ground on my other side. I immediately rolled in the other direction, both to get away from the thing and to put the flames out. It worked. I smothered the flames and stopped rolling, realizing that the creature was no longer screaming. Looking over, I saw it was no longer moving either. It lay in a smoldering heap. I flopped onto my back, looking up at the stars overhead, panting, kill all the adults in the eggs and you can leave. The man on the intercom had said, I couldn't let these things beat me. There was pain, lots of pain, but none that seemed life-threatening. When the explosion threw me, I had tweaked my left knee so I wouldn't be moving fast, but it could have been worse. I got to my feet and limped to the remnants of the exploded egg, heart thudding away. I searched everywhere for any sign of another intact egg but didn't find one. It worked. I knew how to kill the eggs. As I limped to the flamethrower, I prepared to muster some more spit and some more urine. There was work to do. By the time I finished, the sun was coming up and the flamethrower tanks were empty. I was exhausted, barely able to keep standing as I made it to the door we'd come through. My first stop after finding out how to kill the eggs was the corpse we'd brought in. The egg had still been in it and the creature still nearby. I had climbed a tree and torched the creature from its branches, guessing correctly that they couldn't climb with their spindly little arms and bottom heavy bodies. After that, I had performed the arduous task of killing the egg. That was hours ago. Now the egg and human corpse had been laid in where nothing but disparate piles of ash spread all over the place from the explosion. I dropped the flamethrower at my feet and pressed a button on the intercom. I'm done. Let me out. I need medical attention. And something to eat. You're not done. Came to reply. There's an underground nest that you missed. What? Where? I've been all over this place and I haven't seen anything like that. I've been in it. I also hadn't found hemorrhagic remains, which had been bothering me, but I didn't tell intercom man that. It's beneath the coop. The man said. The entrance is hidden under some floorboards in the third room. You're kidding me. No, I'm not. Get it done or you're staying in there until they all hatch. Then you'll be right back where you started. I wanted to ask why they hadn't hatched already. If they'd been there the whole time. But I didn't care. None of this made any sense. Fine. I said. Can I at least get a refill on the flamethrower and a fucking sandwich or a banana or something? Wait ahead of you. The guy said. A moment later, the door opened, revealing two guards pointing rifles at me and a third man, a fellow orange jumpsuit wearer, with a replacement flamethrower and a backpack heavy with unseen supplies. Don't move. One guard told me. He'll bring you the stuff. I didn't move. The prisoner set the stuff just outside the door and retreated. A moment later, the door closed again. I looked in the backpack, finding water, several MREs and a first aid kit. Meager as it was, I ballooned with joy as I chugged half the water. Can I have some of that? I jerked around, spilling some water as I turned to see Hamrick standing five yards behind me. Holy shit, you're still alive? Where have you been? Quickly, I decided it didn't matter. Never mind. I held out the gallon of water. Drink up. I need you to help me piss on some stuff. SCP-3199 denotes a species of sapient biological entities of currently indeterminable origin, though tissue samples indicate the presence of silky chicken, chimpanzee, and human DNA. Matured instances stand at an average of nine feet tall and weigh approximately 1,700 pounds. The cervical vertebrae of a mature instance are composed of cartilage rather than bone. This enables the neck and throat to twist and dislocate to around 340 degrees in either direction, aiding in their unusual reproductive cycle. Upon contact with human or animal subjects, entities will proceed to vomit caustic liquid on the subject, liquefying internal organs and bone structure. The entity will then lay an egg in the cadaver, which the offspring will feed upon soon after hatching. These eggs have an off-white coloration and rubbery appearance. An egg will pass through the entity's digestive tract, esophagus, and eventually out via the mouth, followed by a viscous red substance similar to that used to liquefy bones and internal organs of cadavers. Entities show extreme distress throughout the process, with personnel describing the sound as not dissimilar to a scream. Intradication has proven difficult, as all hatched instances of SCP-3199, regardless of age, carry one egg with an specialized stomach-like organ, assuring that one living instance will persist through ordinary means of constant and lethal assault. This biological phenomenon is presumed to be, in itself, anomalous in origin.