“Go!” Barnett shouted and pushed his partner ahead of him.
Morgan splashed through the frigid water, climbed up onto the ledge, and dropped straight down into the chamber below.
Barnett glanced back in time to see the carcass of a jaguar roll onto its side. Something ripped through its desiccated fur and flagellated through the water.
He tucked the canister under his arm like a football, jumped through the hole, and landed with water pouring down on him from seemingly everywhere at once.
Morgan had already cleared the structure and sloshed madly toward the rocky slope. With as treacherous as the descent had been, the ascent would be infinitely worse.
They crawled upward as fast as they could, their wet boots slipping on the stones and sending them clattering down into the water. Every splash conjured an image of a dragon-like creature bursting from the surface of the water, but Barnett couldn’t risk looking back. He and Morgan had to be a quarter of a mile from where they’d entered the underground complex and at the end of a narrow earthen maze presumably carved by these very creatures, which had been entombed down here with the sacrifices that had served first as sustenance, and then as shelter for this extant species of dinosaur.
Barnett passed Morgan about halfway up. The path ahead remained clear, although the ledge looked a whole lot narrower than it had on the way in.
A clacking sound, like one stone striking another.
He instinctively looked down, expecting to see feathered bodies ascending the rubble in almost serpentine fashion, but the pool at the bottom remained strangely placid, at least directly underneath them. The only ripples were faint and originated from somewhere in the distance.
If the creatures were only now emerging from inside the structure, then maybe there was still a chance he and Morgan would be able to reach the entrance with enough time to restack the collapsed barricade that had originally been used to seal them inside. It obviously wouldn’t last forever, but they didn’t need it to. All they needed was enough time to escape the ruins and call for retrieval—
Clack-clack-clack-clack.
The sound was even louder now, but, again, there was nothing scaling the crumbled staircase behind him. He recognized it, though. From the assault on FOB Atlantis beneath the ice cap. The creatures were closing the gap on them, but, for the life of him, he simply couldn’t see them.
“Hurry!” he called down at Morgan, who paused only long enough to indiscriminately fire several rounds to deter their pursuit.
The echo of the reports reverberated all around them. It hadn’t even faded when the clicking sounds returned.
Clack-clack-clack-clack.
“Where the hell are they?” Morgan shouted.
Barnett crawled from the loose stones onto the narrow ledge. Caught movement from the corner of his eye. A shifting of the darkness. He turned and shined his light—
The walls of the necropolis were positively alive with creatures scurrying straight up the stacked stones, their long, feathered tails swishing behind them, their necks writhing like sidewinders.
“They’re coming!” Barnett shouted.
Several of them were already nearly to the same height as they were and on a course to intercept them before they reached the solitary doorway at the end of the ledge.
Barnett shouted and fired at them as he ran, bracing his shoulder against the wall and praying he kept his feet close enough together that he didn’t step off over the open air.
One of the creatures screamed and lost its grip on the wall. It plummeted into the darkness, trailing a ribbon of blood. Another creature struck at it and caught it by the throat, the momentum wrenching it from its perch. It started tearing apart the other one before they hit the water.
The gunfire drove back the others, clearing a gap to the opening, for however long it might last.
Barnett rounded the bend, launched himself toward the crevice, and slid across the bare stone. He was already scrambling to his feet when he heard the clatter of claws on the walls again.
Morgan blew through the orifice behind him and waved him on. Barnett crouched and ran in the opposite direction. He was nearly to the pit when he heard Morgan bellow and start firing. The discharge flickered behind him, limning the passageway and reflecting from the water way down at the bottom as he jumped across the gap. He lowered his head and sprinted toward the entrance to the necropolis.
The moment he was clear, he threw himself to the ground and started restacking the heavy stones in the opening. He needed to leave enough room for Morgan to get out, but not so much that they wouldn’t be able to wall the tunnel closed behind them in a hurry.
Morgan swung his light ahead of him as he ran. His footsteps echoed from the corridor, punctuated by the clattering sound of claws striking rock. He fired back over his shoulder, his bullets sparking from the floor, ceiling, and walls, revealing fleeting glimpses of the feathered creatures streaking toward him. Not on the ground, but from directly over his head.
“Down!” Barnett shouted.
He raised his weapon and pulled the trigger. Morgan dove onto his chest as the barrage sailed over his head and struck the wave of creatures. They screamed and dropped from the ceiling. He caught a flurry of feathers and claws in the flash of discharge. Spatters of blood. Creatures turning upon their brethren even as they tried to overtake Morgan, who crawled on his hands and knees toward the hole. He stopped before he reached it, rounded on the creatures, and lit them up. Feathers and blood filled the air. Bullets struck their flanks and exposed breasts with sounds like a butcher tenderizing meat. The siege lasted mere seconds, yet left behind utter stillness in the haze of gun smoke.
Morgan explored the darkness behind him with his light. Downy feathers settled to the ground like snowflakes. There wasn’t the slightest hint of movement whatsoever.
Barnett wasn’t taking any chances. He resumed stacking the rocks and had the opening halfway barricaded by the time Morgan started moving. Scooting backward to make sure nothing could overtake him from the rear.
Beneath the clamor of stones, Barnett heard a rapid-fire clicking sound.
Clack-clack-clack-clack.
“Get out of there!” he shouted.
“I can’t see them!”
“Just keep moving!”
“How long do you think that pile of rocks is going to hold? We have a tactical advantage—”
“But they have the numbers!”
Clack-clack-clack-clack.
Barnett risked a peek, but couldn’t see anything in Morgan’s light. Regardless, the clacking sounds increased in volume and proximity. The creatures were definitely gaining on them, but from where?
Barnett recognized their mistake at the same time as Morgan, who turned around and shined his light straight down the shaft, toward the collection of bones protruding from the water.
He shouted and started shooting.
The feathered serpents burst from the hole in the strobe of discharge, teeth snapping, claws striking. Like the hounds of hell themselves, only with quill-like feathers bristling from their carapaces.
Morgan’s carbine whirred. He cast aside his spent magazine, but they were upon him before he could reload. Latching onto his clothing. Nails sinking into the meat of his shoulders. Tearing into the side of his neck, his face.
Morgan looked straight at Barnett. Their eyes locked across the distance. Even with his cheek torn back to his ear, he could tell his old friend was smiling.
A warrior to the end.
Morgan wrapped his arms around the flailing creatures, whose slashing talons decorated the surrounding walls with his blood, and toppled forward into the pit, taking the feathered serpents with him.
Avian shrieks followed him into the abyss before they were abruptly silenced by a crack of breaking bones and a splash.
46
EVANS
Giza, Egypt
Evans unlatched one of the straps on the side of the truck. Squeezed between two overturn
ed crates so he could get close enough to see out. Pressed his face right up against the canvas flap.
He had a clear view of the enclosed bed of the vehicle beside theirs, but the darkness and the settling dust obscured most everything else. He could barely see fifty feet across the rolling barchan dunes to where a low sandstone butte flitted in and out of the dust.
He froze at the sound of voices behind the truck, the squeal of its suspension as someone leaned against the tailgate.
Jade placed her hand on top of his. He could feel her shaking, see little more than her wide eyes staring at him from the shadows behind the crates.
Another squeal and whoever was out there walked around to the other side of the bed, his footsteps scuffing on the dirt.
“Ich mag das nicht,” he said to someone out of sight. Their footsteps continued onward together.
A gentle breeze rippled the canvas siding. It was only a matter of time before the dust settled. If Evans and his team weren’t gone by then, they’d be visible for miles in every direction.
“We need to go now,” Evans whispered. He loosened several other straps and held the canvas in place until Jade was right next to him. “There’s a rock formation out there. Straight ahead. Once you hit the ground, start running and don’t look back.”
“What about the virus?”
“We won’t be able to stop them from releasing it if they kill us. And that’s exactly what they’ll do if they catch us in here.”
The voices outside grew louder and more animated. There was no time to waste.
“Go,” Evans whispered and raised the flap.
Jade crawled over the side of the bed and dropped down into the sand with a soft thump. Evans cringed and prayed no one had heard. Anya was already out when he heard Jade’s footsteps heading away from the vehicle and caught a glimpse of her silhouette against the darkness. The moment Anya was clear, he dove through the gap behind her, landed on all fours to muffle the sound, and launched himself to his feet.
The sand was deep in places and windswept in others, making it difficult to maintain his stride. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw the men gathered in the wash of their combined headlights. There was no way any of them could possibly see him through the glare. As long as they didn’t hear him—
He tripped and hit the sand, tumbled down a dune. Pushed himself back up and raced after the others, who had already vanished around the side of the rock formation. He found them on the far side, crouching in the shadows and trying to catch their breath.
The first hint of the Earth’s shadow appeared at the edge of the full moon. He had no idea how long it would take to fully eclipse it, but he was definitely running out of time to come up with a plan. They had no clue which truck the virus was in, let alone which of the hundreds of crates. They couldn’t risk taking any form of action until they knew exactly where it was.
Evans gestured for the others to follow him and climbed up on top of the rock formation. He pressed his chest to the ground to minimize his profile and dragged himself all the way to the opposite side. From this vantage point, he could clearly see the trucks and the people stationed around them. A group broke away from the others. Two of the men carried a large wooden crate the size of a coffin between them.
Anya and Jade slithered up to either side of Evans.
“What do you think they’re doing?” Anya whispered.
Evans could only shake his head. He counted nine enemies, but couldn’t tell them apart well enough from this distance to be confident of that number. With all of them wearing masks and the same dark fatigues, it could have easily been twice that many.
The men carried the case to the foot of the distant mesa, dropped it unceremoniously onto the ground, and used a pair of crowbars to pry off the lid.
It took Evans several minutes to locate the blond woman, who stood at the periphery of the aura of the headlights. He might not have seen her at all had he not caught a reflection from her golden mask when she turned at just the right angle. The giant in the cloak towered over her, more at home in the darkness than the light. His crocodilian snout protruded from within his hood. He raised it straight up into the air. Turned first one way, and then the other, as though scenting the air for prey.
“What is that?” Anya whispered.
Evans followed her line of sight to where the men had removed a large tripod from the crate and were in the process of affixing an enormous black disc that looked like a cross between a satellite dish and a spotlight to the top of it. They swiveled it to face the mesa and angled it slightly upward.
The first man made a final calibration to its alignment, appraised his work, and then shouted to the others. The blond woman responded in a voice too soft to make out her words and headed in his direction.
When Evans looked back, the man with the feathered serpent mask was gone.
“Wait,” Jade whispered. “I can’t be sure, but I think I’ve seen something like that before.”
The man who’d erected the device met the woman halfway. The two exchanged words while the second man walked past them, trailing a long electrical cord. He opened the hood of the nearest truck and appeared to attach the cable to the battery.
“What is it?” Evans asked. He couldn’t figure out where the cloaked man had gone, which made him more than a little uneasy. “We need to know what we’re dealing with.”
“It looks like an LRAD. A long-range acoustic device. I’m familiar with its use as a crowd-dispersal agent, but I haven’t seen one in person before, at least not one that big.”
The woman in the golden mask waved the others back to the line of trucks. They wasted no time climbing inside the vehicles.
“Cover your ears,” Jade whispered.
“Why—?” Anya started to ask.
“It’s an ultrasonic weapon. You need to—”
Evans’s reaction was a millisecond too slow. While he didn’t hear anything, it felt like someone simultaneously clapped their hands over both of his ears. The air itself seemed to shiver around him. His chest quivered. His heart skipped a beat. The roots of his teeth vibrated in his jaws. He felt sick to his stomach, like he was about to explode from both ends.
Cracks raced through the rock formation underneath them. The entire world shuddered.
A headache came on without warning, multiplied exponentially until it felt like his skull couldn’t contain it. His eyes went out of focus and he tasted blood in the back of his throat.
Shockwaves rippled through the distant mesa as though it were made of liquid. Some sections rose, while others collapsed. Then, all at once and with a sound like thunder, it fractured into a million pieces.
It was over as quickly as it had begun.
There was a residual high-pitched ringing sound in his head, one against which he had to fight to keep his eyes from crossing and the world from tilting. It felt like needles were lancing his eardrums.
Anya retched, but only brought up a mouthful of saliva and stomach acid.
Evans felt something warm on his ear. He dabbed at it and pulled his fingertips away bloody.
Jade scooted away from the edge and smeared the blood from her nose with the back of her hand. She opened her mouth as if about to speak, but only shook her head.
The masked figures climbed out of their vehicles and approached the mesa, several sections of which had collapsed in upon themselves, revealing sinkholes of unknown depth. The outermost portion appeared to form a rectangular frame, while the inside—
“Hier drüben!” one of the men shouted.
He stood on top of a crumbled mound of stones and shined his flashlight down into the dark hole, from which a cloud of dust billowed.
“There’s something down there,” Jade whispered. “A structure of some kind.”
“We need to get down there first,” Evans said. “We can’t afford to let them—”
Anya screamed.
Evans turned around. A hunched shape crouched near her feet. It appear
ed to be made of the darkness itself, until its cloak drew contrast from the night sky. A crocodilian snout protruded from within its hood, framed by brittle, broken feathers. The eyes staring out at them through the empty sockets were reptilian, the irises marbled, the pupils vertically slit. Within them he saw the fate that awaited them all, and realized there was nothing they could do to stop it.
47
ROCHE
The Hangar
Roche released the cable, alighted on the concrete pad at the bottom of the elevator shaft, and sighted the dimly lit corridor ahead of him down the barrel of his rifle while he waited for Kelly to catch up with him. He listened to her descend without taking his eyes off the stainless-steel door. The occasional curtain of sparks cascaded down the wall from the snarl of machinery overhead. He figured it was only a matter of time before either the jaws of the electromagnetic lock chewed through the elevator or their hydraulic pistons failed. Either way, some portion of that elevator was going to come careening down that shaft, and he didn’t want to be anywhere nearby when it did.
Kelly dropped down behind him with a clap of her shoes striking the floor and a whimper of pain, presumably caused by her blistered palms. If hers were anything like his, she’d be lucky to be able to hold her rifle steady. She ducked her head and rushed to his side.
“Once we open those doors,” he whispered, “they’re going to know we’re here.”
“How many of them do you think there are?”
“There’s no way of knowing, but we have to assume they have Tess, which means they hold all of the cards.”
“Then we’ll just have to hope they don’t hear us.”
A thunking sounded from above them, followed by the pinging of something metallic ricocheting from the walls.
Roche boosted Kelly over the lip and climbed up behind her a heartbeat before a massive gear struck the concrete behind them. Scalding fluids spattered the ground beside one of the springs with a sizzling sound.
Mutation Page 29