Chapter 28 – A New Camp

Mk23 -IRJ Droplet – Class 7 – Carpe Victoria (Wrecked)

Sector - Unknown

Planet - Unknown

11th July 2342 (BSST)

Leaving the corpse far behind, I go to explore the rest of the camp. However, much to my chagrin it’s not long until another one comes along. In fact, it’s only about half a minute. Whilst it is less shocking and messy it is far more frightening.

Moving on from the treehouse I had rotated around anti-clockwise coming across one of the five huts first.

When opening the door, I see the other body, or what’s left of it out of the corner of my eye.

As I secure the door on the latch to keep it open, I stare across the camp towards another hut. On the ground, approximately half way between the two, is the remains. A foot is all that’s left, a foot shattered and cut off at the mid-calf, the bone sticking out, the end its clean white sterility in stark contrast to the rest. The insects must have polished off the rest, perhaps they have infested the inside of the flesh and just not yet broken the surface but from what I could see the calf remained relatively intact.

A boot and sock, stained red, cover up most of the foot whilst a thin layer of dust has settled over the top of the body part and mixed with the blood forming a sludgy crust that looks ready to droop off like golden syrup, only far less appetising.

The boot is a large black military style boot with a thick, blocky tread, meant for all terrain. In the wide indented lines of said grip, a few bits of gravel stick, the rubber pushed tight around them.

Mud clings to the bottom for dear life but to no avail as it is peeling off, small strands anchoring it to the sole but it wont be enough and it’s soon to fall to the floor. On the front, the boot is laced up with dark woollen laces with metal aglets. The boot is tied up with lots of criss-crosses going up the tongue and keeping it supporting the remains of the leg until just below mid-calf, where the break was made.

On the toes the black polish has worn off more than anywhere else and the coating is down to the base material, a sort of plasticky fibre mesh, leather having been replaced in commercial use long long ago. Though it is worn out the boots still look fairly new; a testament to how hardy this place is. Now more than ever I’m glad the fleet replaced the silly dress shoes with proper boots, well they were still around but it was no longer a mandatory dress code, you could choose either the sensible comfortable military boots or the ridiculous dress shoes with all the bells and whistles.

With nothing more to discover about the mysterious leg I enter the hut. Inside it is very similar to my house, if less well done and a lot smaller. There’s a raised bed on thick legs with a plant fibre mattress and blankets. I make a mental note to come and nick the stuff on my way back. On the shelves are a few items. A broken pocket knife, with only a corkscrew as the remaining working tool. A pair of socks which I promptly snap up and a wallet. A wallet with nothing inside. Not that money was a priority in the first place, but it would have been nice to return the wallet to the man’s family. I was guessing it belonged to a man judging by the style. A nice wallet at that. It had a snakeskin style leatherette covering with several pockets for cards and change and various items. Old fashioned certainly as the net was both more secure and more worrying. Holding the physical manifestation of your money was comforting it gave the feeling you could defend it, whilst online it was dubious at best that someone could defend their money from a thief.

The house didn’t have much else of interest, a small pile of wood, kept from the weather and a few loose fibres and materials. Stuff I could find elsewhere quite easily. Stuff not worth the effort to lug back to camp. It was a long way and carrying the blankets and bedspread from this house would be challenge enough.

I left the small hut in short order and moved on to the next one, passing by the foot as I went. Up close I could see I was right about the bone, small pick marks and little nibbles could be seen decorating the bone like a tiny pieces of scrimshaw. A fairly morbid one at that.

The crusty mud and blood mix coating the leg looked ready to slide off and off it did when I nudged the boot with my own, like a scab being picked, the sludge revealed the writhing maggots that had infested the leg, making a nest within the walls of flesh that surrounded them, from dawn till dusk. Eventually they would eat through and consume everything and all that would be left was the boot, a mystery and memories.

I left the boot behind and continued on to the other huts, this one was much like the last one in terms of contents, a simple bed, raised up, a small log pile and a shelf with some personal effects.

However, this one had neither the broken pocketknife or the empty wallet occupying space. A pair of socks though was consistent with the previous one. This pair had been moth bitten though and the holes in the toes and heel made them all but unusable. I took them though, one never knows when basic materials will come in handy and if there was ever one thing I was lacking it was cloths and fabrics.

After about twenty minutes of scrounging around the camp I believe I’d covered pretty much everything. As well as five sets of useable bedding, a couple of pairs of socks and some ruined cloth, I had found another body, this one was by one of the walls.

The walls of the camp were circular and they extended around towards a small cliff side and a group of trees. This copse of trees was dense enough that another treehouse had been built into the wall as a sentry post. Up in the treehouse a small chair and shelf were the only amenities provided. A small nook for a spear to rest in and a hook for a bow that I assume they had yet to make would have been useful when such a time as they had made them came around. Alas it wasn’t to be.

To get into the treehouse a basic ladder had been cut into the walls. Since the walls were made of upright logs someone had taken an axe to them and cut wedges approximately forty centimetres apart into two of the logs that the treehouse was based on. The rough steps could be climbed up by the spritely and the treehouse then accessed. At the bottom of this rough ladder I had discovered the man. He had tried to escape the humanoids that had destroyed the camp, killing at least two of his colleagues in the process by climbing out of reach, hoping beyond hope that they couldn’t climb the ladder. Well it wouldn’t tell me if they could or not as he hadn’t even made it to the ladder without being caught.

Having experienced the sheer speed of the humanoids myself it was no wonder he hadn’t gotten very far before being cut down with ruthless, unhesitating power. The eviscerating strike slicing straight through the spinal column catching pretty much everything of use in its way through. The spine, lungs, heart all torn to shreds. The ribs shattering and slicing through those things unaffected like the stomach, liver and kidneys.

The massive damage likely killed the man in mere moments, the best course of action for him. No suffering and pain just a peaceful oblivion to rest in for all eternity.

Since the chest was destroyed so thoroughly that the legs were almost disconnected I had to look elsewhere for more details. The man was of large frame, about 6ft 5” tall and 115kg in weight. He also wore boots similar to the one I’d found earlier, though after a quick check I had determined that he still had both feet still firmly attached to his body – good for him!

The man wore light-weight, grey trousers, with a few rips in, probably from the sharp foliage that inhabits this planet. The trousers were long enough to obscure most of the boots though they had been dragged down as they soaked up the blood pouring from his chest. The crimson-soaked trousers had started to stick to the floor and ants had been attracted to the nutrients making a nest not far from the food. They crawled all over the corpse and in a few more weeks I expect they would claim it all. I stood back a few feet wary of upsetting them, I’ve no idea if they are like ants on earth and even some of those you had better be careful of. No way am I pissing off a colony of super ants. No way no how.

Moving on from the dead I had found a diary, over by the campfire with the lean-tos surrounding it, nothing else of interest except the ruined remains of the plant fibres that had made up the bedding for their people who had lived here.

When discussing this later with Enigma we concluded that the difference in the bedding from the basic lean-to to those with bedding and those with both bedding and wind shelter had signified the progression of those that survived.

The simple lean-tos belonging to those that had died early on, having no opportunity to upgrade the sleeping arrangements, whilst those that still existed had no reason to upgrade them, to work tirelessly on the projects of those no longer there to enjoy them. Then there were the huts, presumably belonging to those that had survived right till the end. Further than their fellow campers.

What horrors befell these unfortunate souls only they can say, perhaps through this diary, perhaps it tells their tale, short and long. The story of the camp and those that lived there. Or maybe, it is nothing at all, the ramblings of the dying and terrified. A storybook, sketchbook or blank whatever it contains is just as telling as the last.

With the apprehension and tension of what I might find rife in the air, a foreboding heavy atmosphere, a pressure weighting down on me. I open up the diary randomly and from that page I begin to read…