This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/PageTurner627 on 2023-06-27 12:09:47+00:00.
June 19, 2021
The entity’s laughter faded as it began to pace around the room, slowly, deliberately, like a wild animal sizing up its territory. It moved with a disjointed grace, limbs twisting and contorting independently. Yet its gaze, filled with a primal and animalistic intelligence, never strayed from us. An eerie sense of foreboding settled over me as I stared into the depths of its eyes.
Becca looked stunned. “It has their voices,” she murmured, her voice echoing horror. “How can it have their voices?”
I was too shocked to respond, grappling with the surreal reality of a creature physically before me. It felt like discovering the monster under my bed was real after all. Before eyes was an Ijiraq.
The huskies suddenly lunged forward, their growls escalating into feral snarls in a brave attempt to protect us. Their bravery snapped me out of my shock. The creature jerked its head towards the dogs, its form morphing into a giant wolf, mouth gaping, sharp fangs glistening.
“No!” I yelled out.
Instinctively, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the knife I’d picked up at Katak’s home. The blade was cool to the touch, the intricate symbols carved into the handle pressing into my palm.
The room was still for a moment as the entity stared at me. Behind me, I could hear Becca’s soft footsteps, her breaths drawn in quiet, controlled patterns. She was inching toward her pack, painstakingly slow to avoid drawing attention. The floorboards creaked under her weight.
My heart pounded in my chest, every thump echoing through my body, a constant reminder of the danger we were in. Regardless, I remained rooted to the spot, my eyes locked on the Ijiraq. Its form continued to shift, solidifying into something more threatening. It resembled a fearsome beast now, more bear than human, the antlers of a caribou replacing the straight black hair. It seemed to be preparing itself for a confrontation.
Becca reached her pack, her movements almost soundless. She rummaged inside for a brief moment before her fingers closed around the stock of her Sako 85, a rugged bolt-action rifle she had packed as protection against polar bears.
The Ijiraq was becoming increasingly agitated. Its form started convulsing, as if it was trying to contain an inner tempest. Its movements became more violent, the antlers slamming against the wooden beams, a gruesome display of power and aggression.
Becca was now on her feet, rifle in hand. She moved swiftly and deftly, her eyes burning with cold determination, as though the dying cries of her colleagues had ignited a fury within her.
As the creature turned towards her, she fired at it point-blank, the sound of the shot ringing through the cabin. The bullet tore through the its nebulous form, ripping a solid chunk of flesh from the transient layer of smoke and ice. A gut-wrenching howl filled the room.
The Ijiraq recoiled, its form flickering wildly between various shapes - human, animal, monster - each more horrifying than the last. Its body was writhing and shifting more wildly than ever.
As it staggered back, a viscous, dark fluid began to ooze from its wound. The smell was overpowering, far worse than the gas. It was a nauseating mixture of sulfur and rot, a stench so potent that it made my eyes water and my stomach churn.
As the creature writhed in pain, its haunting howls transformed into the anguished cries. In its agony, it went into a frenzy, thrashing around the room, its form undulating and changing rapidly.
Becca worked quickly to chamber another round, but the creature’s frenzied movements made it difficult to get a clear shot. As she lined up her aim, the creature lunged towards her, its claws outstretched and its eyes fixed on her.
“Becca, watch out!” I shouted. Acting on instinct, I pushed her out of the way. We both tumbled to the ground as the creature’s claws sliced into my parka, narrowly missing my skin. Its momentum carried it into the wall of the cabin. The impact shook the entire cabin, dislodging several wooden planks from the wall. The Ijiraq howled in frustration and pain, shards of wood protruding from its body.
“Go!” I urged Becca. “Get the dogs and get out now!”
She nodded, scrambling towards the dogs who were barking and whining in distress. Becca hurriedly gathered them, leading them toward the door.
I turned back to face the entity. Its form was slowly solidifying, and its blackened eyes were fixed on me. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, I grabbed a portable kerosene heater nearby. It was a hefty device, radiating a comforting warmth that felt out of place in this nightmarish situation. I hoisted it, feeling the fuel sloshing inside.
“Noah! We gotta go now!” Becca shouted from the door.
I waited for a split second, watching as the Ijiraq began to approach. As it charged at me, I hurled the heater with all the force I could muster. The kerosene heater spiraled through the air, colliding with the creature.
The cabin was instantly bathed in the terrifying light of a fireball. The entity let out a horrifying shriek that echoed through the cabin. I bolted towards the sled without a second glance.
As Becca and I made our escape, the fire quickly spread to the nearby wooden structures, turning the village into an inferno.
—
Our sled slid smoothly over the icy terrain, pushed by the hardy dogs, carrying us farther and farther from the village. The roaring wind cut through us, and the snow, stirred into a whirlwind by the storm, reduced visibility to near zero. As we moved further away, the light from the raging fire grew fainter, swallowed by the unrelenting white.
We continued on, in the general direction of Outpost Aurora. Our primary concern was putting distance between us and the creature rather than reaching our destination. With the light fading behind us and the storm intensifying, we knew we needed to find shelter soon. We were in the heart of the tundra, a vast, flat, treeless plain. Seeking refuge in this desolate expanse was no simple task, but we were fortunate enough to stumble upon a formation of ice and snow that provided a modicum of shelter from the piercing winds.
We set to work building an impromptu snow shelter, scooping and packing the snow to form a protective barrier against the wind. Once we’d made a space that was small but secure, we settled in.
Our breath fogged up in the confined space, but it was better than being exposed to the elements.
“We need a fire,” Becca said, her teeth chattering as she spoke.
I nodded, fumbling with the waterproof matches we had in our pack. The wood we’d managed to gather was scant and frozen, but soon, a feeble fire was flickering between us, providing some warmth and more importantly, a psychological comfort.
From our shelter, we could see the faint orange glow of the burning village in the distance. It was a haunting sight, the ghostly illumination a grim reminder of what we’d left behind.
We hardly said a word to each other, the weight of our recent encounter hanging in the air. I felt a need to say something, but wasn’t ready to discuss the terrifying implications of what we’d faced. Instead, I asked, “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”
Becca stared into the fire, her gaze distant. “My dad used to take me and my brothers hunting when we were kids. We grew up in Newfoundland. Every season, without fail, we’d load the pickup and head up to the Northern Peninsula.”
“What’d you hunt?” I asked.
“Mostly small game, like snowshoe hares and grouse, but also the occasional moose,” she said, absentmindedly.
“Wow, sounds like a lot of fun,” I said.
“It was. It was the highlight of my childhood…” Becca said, her voice devoid of joy. “Until my youngest brother Chris got lost.”
Her somber blue eyes were lit up by the fire. “I was the oldest. I was supposed to be watching him,” Becca confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I was. But I got distracted for just a moment. That’s all it took.”
“Becca…” I began.
“We found him a day later, but… it was too late. He had died of exposure,” Becca’s voice faltered slightly. The weight of her guilt filled the small space between us.
“I’m so sorry…” I started saying.
She could see how comfortable the conversation was making both of us feel. “Hey, so anyway, that was a hell of a throw back there,” Becca complimented me, changing the subject, her demeanor changing as well.
I smiled faintly and shrugged, “I used to play baseball in high school.”
“Oh, Really?” She asked, her brows lifting above her frosty eyelashes. “You must have been the MVP.”
“I mostly just kept the bench warm,” I confessed, feeling a pang of the old, familiar embarrassment.
“Well, it was their loss,” Becca replied, her voice steady, sincere. The compliment warmed me more than the fire.
I just gave her a nod. We were both too tired to talk, and it seemed like a positive note to end on. There was a silence between us, filled only by the soft crackling of the fire and the low growl of the storm outside. We were both lost in our own thoughts, our own memories. Tonight had unearthed ghosts we’d rather leave buried. But we weren’t alone in the storm, in the middle of nowhere. We had each other, and for now, that was enough.
…
Content cut off. Read original on https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/14kbzs2/im_an_arctic_researcher_we_accidentally_released/