For a full second, Alex's mind went completely blank. The sight of that dark, hulking shape ascending the tower—not with the speed of a squirrel or the skill of a human climber, but with a horrifying, unnatural strength—was so far beyond the realm of possibility that his brain simply refused to process it.
The rhythmic scrape... clang... scrape... of its claws on the steel struts was the only reality. It was a countdown to his own death.
"It's climbing," he said into the radio, his voice eerily calm, the way a person's voice gets just before they completely shatter. "It's coming up."
"Climbing?" Elara's voice was a frantic squeak. "What do you mean, climbing? Alex, get away from the windows!"
He stumbled back, his eyes darting around the small cabin. The axe was useless. The flare gun had only made it angry. The footlocker on the trapdoor was a pathetic joke against a creature that could scale a hundred feet of sheer steel. There was only one option left. The 'break glass in case of Armageddon' plan.
"The oil," he said, his own words galvanizing him into action. "I have to use the oil."
"No!" she cried. "Alex, the whole tower could go up! You'll be trapped in a fire!"
"I'm already trapped!" he yelled, scrambling for the can of lantern oil. His hands shook as he fumbled with the cap. "It's better than letting that thing get up here."
He dragged the heavy footlocker off the trapdoor with a grunt, the scraping noise loud against the floor. The sound of climbing was closer now, maybe only forty feet below him. He could hear its guttural, strained breathing.
He wrenched the trapdoor open. A blast of wind rushed into the cabin, and the sound of the climbing became terrifying clear. He peered over the edge into the abyss. He couldn't see the creature directly below him, but he could see the section of staircase about twenty feet down. That would have to be his target.
"This is insane," he muttered to himself, grabbing the oil can. He began to pour.
A thick, viscous stream of kerosene cascaded down into the darkness, splashing and spattering against the steel steps and railings below. The strong, chemical smell filled the cabin. He emptied half of the can, hoping it was enough to coat a significant section of the staircase.
The climbing sound stopped. The creature was directly below the trapdoor now, just out of his line of sight. It must have felt the rain of oil. A low, confused hiss echoed up from the darkness.
Alex didn't wait to see what it would do next. He dropped the oil can, grabbed the flare gun from the desk, and cocked the hammer. His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs. This was it. It would either work, or he would die in a fiery explosion of his own making.
He leaned out of the trapdoor, the wind whipping his hair. He aimed the bright red gun straight down into the darkness, toward the oil-slicked stairs where he knew the monster clung to the metal.
"Hey!" he screamed down into the abyss, a wordless cry of rage and terror.
He squeezed the trigger.
A single, brilliant red star shot from the barrel, illuminating the darkness in a flash of terrible light and hurtling directly toward the waiting oil.