“And that…that, thing, is Harry Wilcox?” He couldn’t help his mouth turning down in disgust. The man in the room looked wet, but stickily wet, as if he had been rolling in engine lubricant. He stood staring straight ahead. Decker knew that it was looking at them.

Eric Ford, lead scientist in their bio-weapons division narrowed his eyes. “Yes and no. Well, no, not any more.” He turned to Decker and shrugged. “I mean, sure it looks like him, but now, who knows what it is? The fact is, the life form can imitate anything it comes into contact with.”

Decker swung toward Ford – the man’s face was grim, and contained none of the usual spark he would normally have exhibited for a discovery such as this. Ford saw it like Decker did – not a source of wonder, but a threat to life…all life.

He scratched his chin. “And the other family members? My files said there was a wife, Summer…and they had three children.”

Ford shrugged. “All dead – consumed, we think, by good ole Harry in there.”

“Consumed? He ate them? All of them?” Decker grunted, remembering the footage of the capture – at first the thing had been much bigger than it was now. “So, it’s shape shifted, re-morphed back into some sort of hiding camouflage?”

“Yes, so it can move among us…its prey, I assume. But I doubt it would hold up to any sort of close scrutiny – it doesn’t speak, or at least it hasn’t with us. It’s primitive, but we think it has a base intelligence. It’s very clearly an ambush predator.”

“What is it? Is there anything even remotely like it? I need something to work with.” Decker’s frustration started to override his nausea.

“What it is? We have no idea,” Ford said. “Its physical composition is more akin to some sort of amoeba, but it’s so primitive, it predates anything we’ve ever seen. Any trace of a close relative probably never survived in the evolutionary geological record – how could it? It doesn’t seem to have bones.” He sighed. “And as for where it’s from, we can only assume it came from deep underground. There was a sinkhole that had opened up below the house. Traces in the basement drain indicate it came from there.”

“Jesus Christ, Eric. What’s it doing in there? It hasn’t moved since I’ve been down here.”

“Hasn’t moved a muscle for hours. It’s waiting for stimuli – let me show you.” Ford pressed an intercom button. “Martin, send in a sample.” He folded his arms. “This is what it’s waiting for…and all it wants for now.”

A door slid open in the rear of the cubicle, and a goat was quickly pushed in. Its ears flickered, and its nose twitched as it caught the scent of something strange. It took a few steps along the side of the room and then froze. Its nose worked some more.

“Keep your eyes on Harry,” Ford said softly.