Free The Aberration by Bard Constantine Page B

still have that pistol?” 
    Fran pulled the .38 from her pocket and nodded.
    Michael hefted the hammer.  “Don’t know what good this will do, but it’s better than nothing.  Ready?”
    She raised the pistol and took a deep breath.  He nodded and slowly opened the door.
    The red glare of the emergency lights blinded them momentarily.  They winced as they frantically searched the room.  Fran swiveled the pistol from side to side, gasping. 
    The large sifters in the center of the room shook back and forth; casting heavy shadows that rocked to and fro in almost sinister indifference.  Nothing leaped out to seize them; no monstrous rats or spiders lay in wait.  She sighed with relief. 
    A fluttering motion caught their eyes.  Michael pointed with a trembling finger.
    “Fran…”
    A large shape clung to the ceiling, almost perfectly camouflaged.  It was the wings that caught her eye, paper-thin delicate things that stirred from the movement of the sifters. 
    It was the largest moth she’d ever seen.
    Michael motioned with his hand.  There were more of the man-sized moths, clinging to the walls and ceiling so motionlessly that she had not noticed earlier.  They did not appear threatening, but…
    Michael put a finger to his lips, and pointed back to the door.  She nodded.  Better to err on the side of caution.   
    As Fran turned, her arm swung… and caught the edge of one of the sifters.  The .38 was knocked out her hand with a metallic clang and clattered across the floor. 
    Someone screamed.
    It was so desperate, so human that Fran looked around wildly for the woman in distress.  Nothing was there.
    Except for what dropped from the ceiling. 
    The wings were what had made it look moth-like.  The rest was humanoid in shape with soft gray down covering its elongated body.  Red eyes glimmered in its face, eyes that were too large, too alien to be human.  The slightest flutter of its wings caused it to float from the floor as though its body was weightless.  Guy had been right.
    The Others had fully evolved.
    It opened its mouth and screamed again.  The rest became agitated, drifting from the walls and ceiling with answering shrieks.  She pressed against Michael, covering her ears.  He looked from one to the next with widened eyes, shaking the hammer at them to keep them at bay.
    “That’s enough!  Don’t come any closer!” 
    His voice quivered and did nothing to halt their advance.  Their screams continued as they pressed in from all around in numbers so thick she could see nothing but ruby eyes and fluttering wings.  Fingers touched her, soft caterpillars that crawled on her flesh. 
    She screamed and lashed out wildly.  To her shock the hand tore apart in a cloud of powder.  Michael swung the hammer; it easily penetrated a mothman’s chest.  They struck repeatedly, but for every creature that fell another took its place.  There was no blood, only fine powder that hung in the air.  It filled her nostrils until she couldn’t breathe , until she coughed so hard that fire seared her lungs .
    Screams vibrated in her eardrums, causing the world to sway in washed out colors; red gleaming eyes and soft gray bodies.  Fingers clutched unnaturally strong, pulling with relentless insistence.  She and Michael were yanked away from each other, lost in a sea of mothmen and floating powder.
    Her own scream floated around her.  “Michael!”
     

 
    18

Transmuted Palpability
     
    The room was barely illuminated.  Pale powder fell unceasingly like fresh snow.  The mothmen had vanished. Michael looked around.  Beads of sweat tickled his forehead.  He hastily wiped it away.  “Hello?  Fran… Guy? Anybody?”
    “Hello, Michael.”
    The familiarity of the voice was impossible.  When he turned, he felt his eyes widen disbelievingly. 
    Cynthia was naked, her body grotesquely altered.  Her hair hung to the floor and dragged behind her like a bridal train.  She shuffled forward in