by Matt James
The skittering of what must have been the lion’s nails on the hard floor advertised their presence in the still, clammy air. Fitz turned and ran again, but stopped at another door, again on his right.
He swung it open with a bang, the hinges working just fine after all these years. Damn, he thought. He listened for more movement but heard none. The lions were probably trying to decide which way he went.
Hopefully the gore I saw down the other way will confuse them a little.
Another bang echoed down the hall as a mop fell from its upright position behind the now open door, startling Fitz. He quickly checked the rest of the tiny room, seeing only more mops and a couple of brooms on one side. On the other wall, there were empty buckets lined up next to a pile of long since soiled rags.
A janitor’s closet.
He leaned out of the room and saw a shape emerge from around the corner, but slow enough that Fitz had enough time to dart out of the small nook. Apparently, they had heard the slap of the mop’s wooden handle on the floor, giving away what direction he had fled. Fitz continued down the main hall coming across a set of stairs that led down, deeper into this literal hellhole.
“Forward or down, mate,” he said to himself. The skittering grew louder, followed by another sound.
The hell?
The low moan of one of the pursuing cat’s softly echoed down the utilitarian corridor. It was answered by another shortly after. At the very edge of his night vision, he saw a figure emerge…and then another.
“Fuck it. Down it is.” He took off down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The hand rail rattled as he hit the landing in between the first floor and basement level. The stairs then wrapped around to the left and went in the opposite direction, like the staircase in a parking complex. Shit. He knew the clang of the metal bar just gave away his location and he needed to abandon his half-stealth.
Hopefully, they’ll inspect the open doors first and give me a better head start, he thought, leaping the last three steps to the next floor, twisting his ankle slightly.
Dammit! he thought, gritting his teeth, quickly looking left and then right, hobbling forward. He had hoped to run into the rest of his team by now, but no such luck.
“Come on, guys. Where are you?”
Not having the time or luxury to lollygag, he decided to trust his gut again and go right.
“I gotta run into them eventually,” he said to himself, huffing a breath as he limp-ran, “right?”
Just as he asked himself the question, the first of the lions hit the loose railing with a bang. Fitz looked back, stumbling a little, and saw the steel bar go flying, obviously flung away by either Simba or Nala.
Damn, they’re quick, he thought he’d have more time to at least get around the next corner. As it stood, he was quickly running out of time.
Through his night vision, Fitz could see a door coming up on his left. He skidded to a stop, just as one of the lions appeared at the edge, materializing like a demon-ghost. What was worse was its eyes. They just stared at him. They weren’t like the undeadheads you read about in books or like the ones you see on TV. These had life in them, thinking for themselves, planning out their decisions. They weren’t just mindless, lifeless killing machines. They were the ultimate predator.
Hard as shit to kill, and really hungry.
Strange, he thought. Logan had said that Saami and Pandu acted the complete opposite. They were pure instinct, doing anything for the kill. But he didn’t have time to contemplate it any further.
Shaking himself out of his stupor, Fitz looked at the door he stood in front of and instinctively tried to read the label. “Oh,” he said, surprised at seeing a word he actually knew. He didn’t know a lick of German, but the word was very similar to one in English.
Labors.
Labs, he thought as he grabbed the door’s knob. He turned it and pushed the door open, quickly slipping into the room beyond. The pounding of the lion’s paws could be heard as he spun and slammed the door shut, locking it with a simple pushbutton lock. These doors were barely adequate to keep humans out let alone the two beasts that chased him now. As soon as he let go of the doorknob, it shook from an impact, making him flinch and jump back, aggravating his already sore ankle.
“Speaking of getting aggravated…” Fitz was getting pissed.
Whump.
Quietly stepping back from the door, shotgun up, Fitz breathed in deep and let it out. He repeated the process twice more as the thin metal door was hit again and again. If they keep this up… He let the concern hang in the air—but before he could finish the assumption, he caught movement to his left and wheeled around, finger grazing the trigger. He didn’t fire, though. It wouldn’t have mattered. What he saw didn’t scare him as much as it startled him. The room’s low light combined with the shadows his night vision gave him made the reflection of himself in the mirror take on an otherworldly form.
He quickly recognized what the ladies called a ‘heavily bearded Jude Law’ in the smeared glass. He was almost two years older than Logan, quickly approaching his fortieth birthday—next week in fact. Just another number, mate. He always said that a birthday was just the annual anniversary of another day of getting older. It was truly just a number.
Whump.
The door bucked again, bringing Fitz and his Mossberg back around. The hinge creaked and buckled a little as it was hit with an even larger impact.
Fitz knew he could pump every single one of his steel slugs into and through the door, but he couldn’t guarantee a kill. These things needed a headshot to go down for the count. He could take out all four of its legs and the thing would still try to carve him a new one. Literally. He’d seen the teeth.
Whump.
Dammit, he thought as the door was hit again, bending the hinges further, almost to the point of breaking. Come on baby, hold on a little longer. But he knew it was too good to be true. If these things were like any of the other creatures he’d read about, particular the Draugr in that Raven book he read a couple years back, they wouldn’t tire or give up so easily. These were the fictional things of nightmares come to life. They’d beat down the door and get in eventually.
Into here.
Chancing a glance behind him for the first time since entering the room, Fitz looked, hopeful at finding a backdoor out of the labs. But what he saw was worse than anything he’d seen so far. There had to be a hundred of them in there with him.
Shreee.
Cringing at the sound of tearing metal, Fitz turned back towards the door and watched it fold in on itself as two of the world’s best and most dangerous hunters leaped through.
“Shit.” He had just enough to time to audibly curse before he pulled the trigger.
20
CJ yelped in surprise at the bang she heard reverberating around her. It sounded like someone violently kicked a car door shut.
Logan and Jan took up positions to either side of her, pointing their larger, more imposing weapons down each direction of the basement hallway. The boom startled them into action as quickly as it scared CJ. They were soldiers after all.
Logan didn’t like the sound of whatever that was. As far as he knew they were alone. No one other than Mo and Fitz knew they were down here, or at least where to look for them.
“Something’s wrong,” Logan said softly. “We should head back and—”
Whump.
The sound resonated through the corridor again, coming from both paths. The square pattern of the hall was throwing off the directional origin of the noise.
Forward? Logan thought. Or back the way we came?
Whump.
“Screw it,” Logan said, running forward. “Let’s move.”
Jan and CJ fell in behind him at a dead sprint, nearing the corner. Slowing for just a second, Logan stepped around the left turn, SCAR pointed down the hall. Seeing nothing, he broke into another sprint, this one faster than the last, his adrenaline taking over.
As the lactic
acid started to consume his legs, he willed himself to keep going. The square layout of the facility made pursuit of the unknown noise easy. Straight, left, straight, left.
It’s like the American’s bloody NASCAR races.
The whump got louder and louder as they neared the next and presumably last left-hand turn. Logan again slowed as he neared, peeking around the two walls junction.
Whump!
The sound was louder, echoing past him and around the corner to CJ and Jan. It was definitely down here.
“Can’t see anything yet,” Logan said softly. “We need to keep moving.”
He and Jan took point, CJ following closely behind. They slowed to a brisk walk, all the while aiming their weapons in front of them.
CJ plowed into both men as they suddenly stopped. She peeked between them, her mouthing hanging open like a codfish.
What she saw both shocked and confused her.
Two lions, both males, but too young to have fully grown manes, jumped and slammed headlong into what looked like a random metal door.
Not so random, I guess.
As the two big cats collided with the door, their combined weight, along with the weakened integrity of the metal folded in on itself. As soon as their front halves made it through the entry, the booming of a weapon discharging echoed past them, originating from inside the now doorless room.
Logan and Jan continued forward, bringing up their weapons. They each popped a few rounds, most striking the closest lion in its side, penetrating flesh. To any normal adversary, the hollow points and steel slugs would have been enough to shred their organs, killing them where they stood. But alas… No such luck.
If this beast felt pain, it didn’t show it. The only recognition Logan got for his efforts, was a look that could have curdled a glass of milk, and a roar that was both feral and accusatory. The Nach was actually pissed that he and Jan had shot it.
Logan watched as the unseen shooter let loose another volley of blasts from inside the room, dropping one of the creatures at the halfway point of the ransacked doorway. The second living lion stepped back and turned fully towards them, screaming one last time before charging down the hall with impossibly quick strides.
Everyone knew a lion had a quick first step, but they weren’t marathon runners like some of the other predators the Serengeti had to offer. If you stayed far enough ahead of them, the lion hunting you would eventually give up. Their strength was surprise and sheer strength.
At first, they balked at the advancing beast, confused that the injured animal would actually go on the offensive with an obvious retreat just a little further back down the hall. But the shock only lasted a second as Logan, Jan, and CJ all gathered together and tore into the lion all at once.
Just as he pulled the trigger to his weapon, Logan thought he saw someone poke his head out of the destroyed doorway. Fitz? The beard was a dead giveaway. Why is Fitz here?
Thankfully, Fitz was smart and dove back into the safety of the room, just as the corridor was filled with the deafening roar of the three of their weapons.
It took more rounds than it should have, but finally one of Jan’s slugs found the thing’s forehead, turning what was left of the creature’s brain to mush. It fell, sliding to a stop halfway between them and the door it just beat down. The slick of blood could be seen glowing in their night vision.
“Fick dich ins Knie!” Jan cursed, showing true anger, which was a little out of character for the bigger man. His nature was always peaceful, but Logan knew that was just because he’d never seen anything make him go overboard.
“What?” CJ asked, wincing at what Logan knew would be an awful ringing in her ears. He felt it too, again, but had become accustomed to it on the battlefield, having been in his share of close-quarter firefights.
Jan didn’t answer her, his rage had consumed him for a moment, lost in it. Logan knew how the man felt. He had experienced the same thing many times when under heavy duress. He knew the tunnel vision would subside and Jan would be back to his usual cool, calm, and collected state in no time.
“Dammit, Logan.”
Logan looked up from the dead lion, which he noticed was black as night. But the investigation into the creature could wait. He was just happy to see that his friend and longtime partner was okay.
“Gray,” Logan said, walking forward, “you good, mate?”
Fitz patted his chest and legs, mockingly checking for injuries. He then grabbed his crotch and smiled. “You know I am.” Limping forward, he met the others next to the prone body of the…
“What the hell?”
Logan looked down and saw CJ inspecting the… Lion? It was then Logan saw that this definitely wasn’t a normal lion.
“Lights,” Logan ordered. He wanted to see this thing with his own eyes, without the green tint of his night vision.
As everyone lifted their various devices away from their eyes, Logan clicked on an L.E.D. flashlight. The others followed suit, illuminating the dead monster, revealing it in its entirety.
“It’s a saber?” CJ said, questioning her own assessment of the beast.
“A saber?” Fitz asked. “As in a saber-toothed tiger?”
“Saber-toothed cat—not tiger—there’s no such thing,” she corrected. “But yes… Well, more or less, yes.” Her eyes never left the…animal. “It definitely has some of the more recognizable characteristics that a saber would have had.”
“Like big fucking teeth,” Fitz added. “Bastards were chasing me throughout this whole damn place. Thankfully, they can’t see for shit in the dark.”
“Why is it black?” Jan asked, standing over its head, Mossberg pointed at its blown-out skull. He apparently wasn’t taking any chances at a potential resurrection.
“Camouflage maybe,” CJ replied, “or, it could be another form of melanism—a mutation in an animal’s skin causing the coat’s color to darken. It’s actually quite common in the animal kingdom. Whatever it is, virus or not, it caused these things to change, giving these cats better stealth at night by altering their fur’s pigment.”
“And the teeth?” Logan asked.
“Better weapons,” CJ said, looking up to her brother. “It’s like a form of expedited evolution. It’s a Smilodon populator, or as they are more popularly known as saber-toothed cats. Smilodon means ‘tooth shaped like double-edged knife’ in Greek for those who care. Anyways, they were expert hunters and had canines that could reach in excess of ten inches.”
“And populator? Fitz asked. “What does it mean?”
“It means ‘he who brings devastation.’”
The group was silent for a beat, but CJ perked up, a thought popping into her head. “It devolved the lion.”
“Devolve?” Logan asked. “Isn’t that a bad thing?”
“Normally, yes,” CJ replied, “but if you could isolate the specific link—or gene—that caused it and eliminated the negative effects, you could, in essence, achieve it.”
“So, the lion was genetically instructed to revert back to its ancestral form—its stronger form most likely,” Jan said skeptically.
“Along with a little laboratory created cocktail too,” Fitz added, looking back to the room he found, his own comment making him shudder at what he saw in there.
“That’s all fine,” Logan said, trying to put a bow on what happened. “But why does this lion look like an extinct saber?”
CJ shrugged. “No idea, but whatever is in the God Blood that Mengele mentioned, seems to bring the best out the Nach in their own way.”
“You mean, whatever brings out the worst,” Jan added, shotgun still pointed down at the thing’s head.
CJ just shrugged again, conceding the point. Jan was right after all. To the lion, it was a best-case scenario, but to its prey, it was most definitely the worst.
“What of Saami and Pandu?” Logan asked. “They didn’t seem evolved or devolved. They just seemed crazed.”
CJ shrugged again. “I can’t tell you tha
t. I’m not a biologist, but maybe the God Blood reacts with different species inversely, creating different mutations. That would be my guess. Mengele’s research is over seventy-years-old remember. His equipment was just as old. So was his understanding of DNA. We’ve come a long way since then.”
“Mengele? God Blood? Nach?”
Logan, CJ, and Jan all looked to Fitz. His eyebrows raised to the ceiling, a questioning look on his face.
“What the hell are you guys talking about?”
21
“It’s in here,” Fitz said, leading the others around the second dead saber-toothed lion. They had to shimmy around its girth clogging the doorway in order to access the room marked Labors. His team had filled him in with what they had discovered too. He still couldn’t believe most of it.
Fitz also filled in the others with the events that happened after he and Mo had left in the Blackhawk, to find the missing poacher. He described in detail what he saw when the largest of the males changed into a Nach-lion.
“Labs.” Jan read the nameplate, rubbing his eyes, confirming what Fitz said as he stepped into the room. They opted to conserve the batteries in their night vision devices, using only their L.E.D. flashlights for now. If things went badly, they’d still have enough juice to get out of Dodge and make it safely back to the vertical shaft entrance.
Logan was last to enter, unable to avoid the congealing goop on the tile floor. It spread like black molasses and he had to be careful not to slip. As he passed by the lion’s head, he saw that Fitz had blown out most of its skull, like Jan, with a well-placed shotgun blast, after taking off one of the creature’s front legs.
He got lucky, Logan thought. He incapacitated the thing before it could attack, blocking the second one from fully entering. Logan then looked over to his friend. Or he’s just that good and stayed cool under pressure. Knowing their backgrounds in the army, he knew it was probably Fitz’s cunningness under pressure that did it, he was definitely talented with a variety of different weapons. That was for sure. If Logan was the best—which he believed himself to be—then Fitz was a very close second. Australia had lost two of the best within a couple years’ time.