Quick Links -    Disc. Board   |   Outpost#31 Store   |   THING-FEST    

- Current / Submit News
- Contact Us
- DVD Petition
- Disc. Board
- Disc. Board Guidelines
- Script
- Screenshots
- FAQ's
- Cast & Crew
- Quotes
- Maps and Timeline
- Trivia 
- Goofs
- Special FX
- Behind-the-Scenes
- Deleted Scenes
- Technical Specs
- Storyboards
- In Memoriam

- Video Game
- Role-Playing Games
- Board Games
- Online Articles
- Magazines/Comics
- Books 
- "Who Goes There?"
- Fan Fiction Repository
- - Fan Fiction Stories
- - Fan Images
- - Fan Essays
- - Fan Tattoos


John Carpenter's



By ElliotAppleton

Windows suppressed a shudder as he looked at the hideous man-monster under the sheet in the storeroom. He knew the insanely warped carcass would dash his hopes for a sound sleep tonight. "We oughta just burn these things." he said to Bennings across the room. 

"You can't burn the find of the century," Bennings replied, a little surprised at Windows' fear of a dead body. "That's gonna win somebody the Nobel prize." 

Still wary of the dead Thing, Windows placed the sheet back over it, hiding the gory sight from his eyes. He wondered what horrors it had subjected the crew of the Norwegian outpost to, but he knew he would probably never know. Refusing to cast his mind to what the Dog-Monster had done to the other dogs in the kennel, he turned away from the table. "You got the keys?" he asked Bennings. 

"Go get them from Garry," Bennings said, going through some boxes and equipment on the shelves. "I want to get some stuff out of here." He turned away and heard Windows leave. Placing boxes on the floor, he thought about the massive fame a man would get from presenting evidence to the world that intelligent life existed in outer space. He would rank alongside Newton, Darwin and Einstein. People would never look at the night sky in the same way again. That person could be me, he thought to himself with a slight chuckle. 

Bennings stopped. What was that sound? It sounded like something wet and slimy moving around close to him. He thought of the alien carcass on the other side of the room and broke out in a cold sweat. No, it isn't possible, he thought. The Thing was burned to death. Nothing could survive. 

Just as he was about to walk out of the room and get the others, he heard the slimy sound again and felt movement behind him. His eyes bulged with horror as he spun round and saw fleshy, sinuous tendrils writhing toward him from under the sheet on the table, oozing translucent goo. Before he could scream out for help, one of the bloody whips lashed across his mouth with lightning speed, blocking any calls he could make. Then several more coiled around his legs and torso and dragged him to the chair. 

Bennings struggled against the tendrils, but to no avail. I'm gonna die! he thought. He felt a strange pain as the tendrils pierced his flesh and slid greasily inside his body, wrapping themselves around his internal organs. 

It was assimilating him. 

As Bennings felt his entire body start to dissolve in the Thing's grasp, he thought of his wife and children back home. He had promised he would visit them after winter. Now he knew he would never see them again.

Moments later, Bennings had been reduced to a fleshy mass of organs. Tearing off his last shreds of clothing, the Thing hauled it closer to itself and began the process of imitating Bennings' genetic structure by mixing and merging cells. When it finished, his friends would never know the difference. 


About Us     Copyright

www.outpost31.com 2001-2004

contact us