***
Martin swore softly as he struggled against the confinement of the seaweed. What the hell was this anyway? Since when did seaweed attack? He was wrapped tighter than Thomas in the mail room. He lifted his head and was shocked to notice Daniel standing near the water, with the Scot a few feet behind. He smiled and let out a joyful shout, even though the Scot had a rather satisfied look on his face. This seaweed thing had to be his doing.
Martin frowned as both Daniel and the Scot crouched low to the ground, and it looked like Daniel was mouthing words to him.
“What?” Martin shifted in his restraints. “I can’t hear you! Why are you standing there? Come and get me outta this!”
Daniel motioned him to be quiet. “Don’t move!”
Martin lay his head down on the ground. Yeah, like he could move. What were they waiting for? The smell of rotting flesh crept over him and he swallowed a few times to keep from vomiting. He looked up, and saw the wrinkled face of the old man looking down at him. A maniacal smile came to his lips.
“Your friends are too scared to come after me.” His breath came in shallow breaths between words, as he pulled out a dagger. “Too bad for them. Your blood will be on their hands.”
He watched the blade of the knife as it rose over the old man’s head. His heart racing, Martin lifted his head again and looked back at his co-workers.
Why are they just sitting there?
Frantic, he rocked back and forth, hoping the vines would loosen, but it only made it worse and the constriction was now making it hard to breathe. The small gasps of air were tinted with the overpowering stench as the old man got down on his knees next to him, chanting in some foreign language over and over again. The dagger still over his head. Martin’s eyes went wide as a small black cloud began to form several feet above them, churning like a murky whirlpool. He lifted his head and looked down the shore, but Daniel and the Scot stayed where they were.
With a loud splash, the water exploded several yards off shore, and Martin saw the shadow of something big fall over them. He looked up—and into the one big eye of a very large creature. It’s mouth open and quickly lowering toward them. Martin let out a scream and violently struggled on the shore as the creature descended overtop of them. He closed his eyes and held his breath, waiting for the inevitable, excruciating pain.
He heard the old man scream and Martin felt a slight breeze as something brushed past his face. He opened his eyes and watched as the creature leaned his head back and the torso of the old man tumbled into its open mouth. Martin froze as the sound of bones grinding against the razor sharp teeth filled his ears, and bits of carcass dropped from the creature’s mouth. It looked at Martin with its one eye, then slowly slithered back into the water and disappeared into the lake.
Adrenaline raced through Martin’s veins as a trail of bubbles moved away from the shore and out into the blackness of the water. He felt numb, lightheaded, and giddy all at the same time. Not even when Daniel knelt down beside him did his feelings change, and as the seaweed around him loosened and fell away, his body began to tremble.
“How ironic,” Daniel said, looking out over the lake. “To be killed by your own creation.”
Martin sat up and slowly faced the young man. “Wait, are you telling me that was--”
“The Brosnie? Yeah.”
The Scot walked up to him with his hands on his hips. “You’d better call Lucian and change the Level Two evac, to a Level Three.”
Daniel nodded and stood up, pulling his cell phone out from his pocket. He placed the phone up to his ear and stepped off to the side.
Martin sat on the ground. His legs felt weak and he wasn’t sure if he could move them. Slowly his heart rate returned to normal, but it didn’t stop his body from trembling.
“Are you all right, Mr. Cunningham?” the Scot asked.
Martin slowly shifted his gaze to the older man. “I’m not sure.”
“A piece of advice for the future.” He held out his hand and motioned Martin to take hold. “Next time Mr. Livingston instructs you not to move, please do so. Our advice and actions may seem odd, but trust us. We know what we’re doing.”
Martin grabbed the Scot’s hand and pulled himself to his feet. The night air was cool against his skin as his body radiated heat from the adrenaline. “What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” he asked, as the winds picked up.
The Scot smiled. “There is always a next time.”
Martin heard a low rumbling coming from the direction of the Embassy, and noticed a small black cloud forming over the roof. It grew quickly as it sucked in more air and with it, branches and other pieces of debris.
“What is that?” Martin said, pointing to the building.
“A portal,” the Scot said as the vortex formed over the roof. “And it’s large enough to pull the entire building into it!”