The Base, Pt. 3

The three went deeper, Aidan leading the way. It was all darkness. They’d found several flashlights in a cabinet by the entrance and now three beams of light lit up the rooms and halls. Inside the building they found more of the same – soldiers cooked from the inside out. Now, though, there were civilians. A blistered leg with a woman’s high heel shoe stuck out from beneath a desk. It looked like she’d crawled under it to hide and had died there, sprawled out with her hands over her head. Another pair of corpses looked like a young boy clutching an infant girl to him. The soldiers had kept family here, Aidan knew that, but they never saw them in the town. Only soldiers in their trucks came down to trade.

As they went deeper into the building, the halls and rooms became less comforting. Carpets gave way to tiled floors. Wood-panelled walls with photographs of military heroes or American patriotic imagery disappeared and there was only metal and white stone. They pushed through a door that said, “Clearance Level 4.” It was all swinging double doors and gurneys.

“This place is like a hospital,” Wynne said. It had been awhile since any of them had spoken and Gerard jumped. Aidan looked over his shoulder at the two of them. Gerard was pale and sweating. Wynne’s flashlight beam trembled as his hand did.

He wondered if Wynne’s hands had trembled when he’d touched Janessa for the first time. Aidan’s had and she’d smiled at him. He didn’t know if he’d ever touched anyone affectionately in his life. It didn’t come naturally to him. It probably came naturally to Wynne. He doubted that his hands had trembled.

“Yeah. It does,” Gerard said. “Base clinic maybe?”

Aidan shined his flashlight through one of the windows on a swinging door.

“This is strange medicine,” he said. Gerard and Wynne approached him and peered through the window. Gerard pushed open the door and it reeked of carrion. Wynne threw up.

It was a room full of operating tables. A corpse lay on each one. They all lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling. All of their mouths hung wide open and their eyes stared while their abdomens were exposed. Large pins held back flesh. In some cases ribcages were cracked and split in half.

“Jesus,” Gerard said. Aidan walked into the room. The other two just watched him, uncertain. Wynne wiped his mouth and breathed heavily.

The corpses here weren’t cooked like the others. They were all decomposing, but slowly. They were older men, Aidan noted. They all had gray hair or no hair. Whoever’d done this hadn’t bothered to strip them naked. They tore open their jackets and cut into them. Aidan moved an arm so he could he look at the shoulder. Stars. He grunted.

“What are you looking at?” Gerard asked.

“The losers of a war, I think.” If his answer exasperated Gerard, the man was too disturbed to say anything about it.

In piles next to some of the corpses were their internal organs, seperated individually and neatly arranged, leaving only empty cavities in their stomachs. Naked spines gleamed white up through the holes that were cut open. Other corpses were not so neat and intestine and stomach unspooled over the edge of the table and onto the floor as though someone had just reached their hands into the men and yanked them out. He wondered if they were still alive when it happened. The way their faces were twisted and their mouths howled silently, be believed that most of them were.

“Aidan,” Gerard said. He was suddenly whispering. Perhaps he was paying respect to the pain suffered in this room. “Get the fuck out of there. Let’s go. We’ve seen enough. Hero boy here is-”

There were several pops and Gerard’s words were cut off. Aidan looked over to see blood sprayed across the door Gerard had been holding open. Gerard was toppling to the ground, his face a dark mass, as Wynne shouted something. There was another pop and Wynne fell to the ground, still shouting.

Aidan crouched down behind one of the surgical tables and checked the action on his rifle. He wasn’t very good with guns, but he knew the basics. Between yelling at them, Gerard had showed them a few other things on the way up. He clicked the safety off and chambered a round.

“Aidan, help,” Wynne shouted. He laid in the doorway and was trying to crawl inside. Aidan was motionless.

A minute ticked by as Wynne crawled, groaning and leaving a trail of blood behind him. “For fuck’s sake, help me,” he screamed. His voice was a wreck.

Aidan heard footsteps over Wynne’s breathing.