She looked around for another possible way into Manifold’s center of operations, and her eyes fell on a revolving swing ride. The platform was elevated several feet off the ground, and up above, the rusted swings hung there, posing no obvious threat. As she moved closer, she saw another trap door, this one larger than the one in the bumper car track, set directly in the ground below the ride deck like a cellar door. It was certainly worth checking.
She took one last look at the ride, trying to spot any sign of danger. Seeing none, she dropped down on all fours and crawled underneath it. Sufficient moonlight glowed through the opening between the central column that supported the ride and the deck that she could see without having to resort to her flashlight. She tried the handle and pulled, but the door did not budge. She gave it another heave, but still no luck. This had to be it! Why else would it be secured? She’d have to blow the door.
Just as she reached that decision, a loud, grinding noise broke the quiet. All around the perimeter of the ride, stainless steel bars six inches apart rose up out of the ground, ringing the deck and imprisoning her in the ride. No matter, she could still climb out through the center, drop a grenade and run. Once the door was blown, she’d climb back in the same way. The thought had just crossed her mind when the center column started to turn. It went slowly at first, picking up speed until it was spinning faster than should have been possible for a swing ride. A sick feeling rose in the pit of her stomach. She supposed she’d better see what was up. She crept over to the column, climbed up the safety wall that ran around the inside of the deck, and peered over the edge.
The swings were bobbing up and down, and from the bottom of each, two razor sharp blades, one on either side, swung back and forth.
“It’s dramatic, I know.” The voice was back. “But I think you’ll find our defenses effective.” All around the deck, spikes intermittently shot up and sank back down. “You don’t need to die here, like this. No soldier of your…skill…deserves a death like this. Give yourself up and live to fight another day.”
Queen scowled. “Go fuck yourself.” She’d stick to her plan of blowing the door and seeing what lay behind it.
The man speaking to her sighed and then, as if reading her mind, the door slowly sank out of sight. Queen didn’t need to see the oborots to know they were coming—she could hear them. She sprang up onto the edge of the safety rail, balanced there, and looked down at the deck, trying to spot a pattern in the spikes. Seeing a safe spot, she jumped down, drew her pistol, and began picking her way across the deck. She only made it a few steps before the first oborot appeared. The creature perched on the edge of the rail, sniffed the air, and before it could spring, Queen put a bullet in its forehead. The beast fell backward. She hoped it had fallen on the others in its pack, but two more appeared almost instantly. The first one hurled itself at her. Queen got off one shot and deftly sidestepped, dancing around a spike that shot up between her legs. The oborot landed hard on all fours, turned…
…and was impaled by a spike that shot up through its abdomen, splitting its spine. Its cries of pain were ear rending, but Queen didn’t have the time or bullets to expend on a mercy killing, because the third oborot was now after her, and she spied a fourth rounding the deck from the opposite side.
Her first shot caught the closest of the beasts in the shoulder, but it didn’t slow its charge. Queen sprang onto the body of the fallen oborot, careful to avoid the hole where the spike would soon be reappearing, and jumped again toward the center of the ride. Perhaps she could get back down to the door, though if it led to the oborots’ holding pen, she’d be even worse off than she was now.
The oborot tore after her. Another spike shot up, grazing its hairy calf. The thing scarcely noticed the wound, but it slowed down just enough for Queen to take it down with a head shot.
She clambered back over the interior rail, but before she could drop down to the ground, she spotted more oborots coming through the door.
Road closed. This is getting me a whole lot of nowhere fast.
She holstered her Mark 23 and jumped up, grabbing hold of a bar on the central column. It was difficult to maintain her grip as the ride spun, but she held on and painstakingly hauled herself up. The oborots quickly came after her. One clawed at her foot and she kicked it away, then stamped down on its head, causing it to lose its grip.
Queen clambered up onto the top of the ride. Bars holding the chairs extended out from the center column like rays of sunlight. Balancing precariously, she clambered out toward the edge of the ride. The farther she moved from the center, the faster the ride spun.
The swings began to bob up and down. Queen held on tight, vowing to find the man who was running this crazy amusement park and castrate him. Behind her, one of the oborots lost its grip and fell to the spiked deck. Queen grimaced at the sight, pleased that one more pursuer was down, but fully aware that a single misstep could doom her to the same fate.
When she could climb no farther, she looked down at the pavement that was flying by at a dizzying rate. Could she make that jump without breaking her neck? The ride continued to spin, and she found herself facing a dense clump of trees. That was it! She waited, ready to launch herself into the trees on the next go-round, hoping the oborots wouldn’t get to her before the ride made it back around again. Her perch was so precarious that she didn’t dare draw her pistol.
A hairy form moved closer to her, its incredible strength compensating for its lack of climbing ability. Queen’s eyes darted from the patch of trees to the oborot and back again to the trees. The deadly ride now felt as if it were turning in slow motion, the trees miles away and the oborot a hair’s breadth from dragging her down to her death. The rusted metal cut into her palms as she held on for all she was worth, and the muscles in her back and legs screamed from the pressure of the hunched position she maintained.
The dark outline of the trees came closer.
The oborot reached for her.
And Queen jumped.
Branches tore her skin and clothing as she crashed into the trees. A limb smacked her across the face, and she felt blood pour from her nose. She tumbled down, bouncing like a pinball off every branch, and caught hold of a limb just before she crashed to the ground. The oborots were leaping down off the ride, eager to continue the pursuit. Muttering a curse, Queen dropped to the ground and ran.
The Ferris wheel stood directly in front of her, silently spinning in the darkness. The oborots were almost upon her, so there was no time to wonder what nasty surprise might await her there. She sprang into the closest gondola. Her Mark 23 was in her hand in a flash and she trained it on the closest oborot as it paused, tensing to spring. Two bullets to the head and it was down.
As the gondola rose higher, the oborots were circling the base of the ride, waiting for her to descend. Three of the beasts remained. Queen knew she didn’t have the luxury of going round and round, picking them off as she circled. The open gondola would afford her no protection from the beasts. She had to take care of them before she hit the ground.
She considered dropping a grenade on them, but dared not risk it considering the age and condition of the ride. Manifold had obviously made some…improvements to these attractions, but the Ferris wheel supports were clearly old and rusted. She’d have to do this the old-fashioned way.
She leaned out of the gondola, holding on with her left hand and emptied her clip at the first oborot she saw. The beast let out a cry of pain that was so human it gave her a chill, and then it fell in a heap. The gondola descended. Queen slapped in a new clip and chose a new target. The oborot scaled one of the support beams, fully exposing its back to Queen, who took full advantage. Three shots and the beast fell dead to the ground.
One more to go.
Queen looked around, but could not see the last remaining oborot. Where had it gone? The Ferris wheel carried her ever closer to the ground as it completed its revolution. Had the oborot fled? Something smashed into the side of the gondola,
knocking her sideways. She fell hard into one of the seats and found herself staring into the oborot’s grotesque face. The gondola shook from the beast’s weight, and Queen’s first shot went wide. The second caught it in the shoulder, and it slipped out of sight. The gondola was now on its way up again, and as it rose, she looked out over the edge, seeking to finish off the last remaining beast.
Her eyes pored over the moonlit amusement park for any sign of it, but she saw nothing. Perhaps this one was smarter than the others, and was hiding, waiting to spring when next she made her descent. She watched the world grow smaller as she rose, and as she reached the apex, something grabbed her ankle and yanked her down. She scarcely had time to cry out in surprise before finding herself dangling far above the ground, her weapon gone, clutching the bottom edge of the gondola, inches from the oborot. The thing had caught hold of the gondola as it fell, and now hung by its uninjured left arm, and grabbed for her with its right. Its claw-like fingernails gleamed in the moonlight as it went for her throat.
Queen pulled up and twisted, feeling the beast’s nails tear her t-shirt and score her chest. She lashed out with a series of powerful kicks, pummeling the oborot’s face and chest. The angry beast swung back, still holding on with one hand. Queen struck the hand with a well-placed kick and the oborot lost its grip. As it fell, it reached out and grabbed hold of her ankle. She felt a jolt as the sudden addition of the beast’s weight to her own threatened to rip her shoulders out of their sockets, but Queen was no weakling. They dangled far above the ground, the Ferris wheel slowly descending. Queen looked down and her eyes locked with those of the oborot.
She stamped down with all her might on the oborot’s face, and heard the crunch of breaking bone. The beast let out a yelp, lost its grip, and tumbled to the ground. It lay there for a moment, but then managed to rise up on its hands and knees, and started to crawl away.
“Unbelievable,” Queen growled. As the gondola came down again, she dropped to the ground and looked around for her lost Mark 23, but she did not see it anywhere. She spotted the oborot. It had regained its feet, and was limping slowly in the direction of the abandoned pirate ride. Queen’s eyes flitted to the swing ride, which still spun at a dizzying rate, the swinging blades glinting in the moonlight. The way in was right there, but she’d be cut to pieces before reaching it.
She glanced at the oborot, which seemed to be moving with a purpose. What if it knew another way in? She spared one last moment to look for her Mark 23 and spotted it lying beneath the broken-down wooden steps of the Ferris wheel. She snatched it up and took off in pursuit of the oborot.
It hobbled past the remains of the boat swing ride and vanished into a thick stand of weeds and shrubbery on the other side. Queen got there just in time to see it disappear into an old storm drain. Taking a deep breath, she followed, hoping it would not lead her to a dead end…or into a death trap.
Chapter 11
“Where the hell did she go?” Darius watched as Andrew clicked on the various cameras, trying to locate the woman. Damn Manifold and the shoestring budget they’d put him on. One little mistake and he was in the doghouse. Hell, he was in the outhouse. He needed this project to succeed to get back into Ridley’s good graces, not that he’d heard from the man in months.
“She ran past the ship swing ride,” Andrew said. His tone said, not for the first time, that he disapproved of the money Darius had spent modifying the old amusement park. “If she doesn’t change direction, we should see her on camera five shortly.”
“That’s a big ‘if.’ She’s surprised me so far. No reason to expect she won’t do it again.” Darius hated admitting that, but the woman had proved to be resourceful and downright ferocious. He wouldn’t have believed it from looking at her. With that face and body, she belonged in a magazine, not the military.
“Maybe she’s bugging out,” Andrew said hopefully.
“It’s possible.” Darius stroked his chin, feeling the rough stubble. “I would prefer she not escape, though.”
“I could release the remainder of the failed test groups. That one small pack almost finished her.” There was a manic glow in Andrew’s eyes. “They’re bouncing off the walls as it is. We’ve already determined their minds can’t be restored. If we’re going to kill them anyway…”
“No.” Darius slashed the air with his hand, cutting off Andrew’s words. “Think. What would happen if they got to civilization before daybreak?”
Andrew shrugged. “Some civilians would be killed, but by the time the police track down the culprits, regression will have kicked in and they’ll arrest some raving lunatics, that’s all.”
“A bunch of lunatics all just happen to terrorize the same part of the country on the same night? And what if there are witnesses? One person telling the story would be dismissed. But several people all telling the same tale is a different story. We’d be shut down for certain, and if the law didn’t get us, Ridley would.”
“Accidents happen, things don’t work out. Ridley should understand that.” If Andrew had ever met Richard Ridley, the head of Manifold Genetics, he would not dismiss the thought so casually.
“We’re not letting them out, and that’s final. Just keep an eye out for her and let me know when she shows her face. I’ll track her down myself.”
The storm drain was a tight squeeze, and Queen muttered a prayer of thanks that she wasn’t some bulky heifer. She followed the sound of the oborot, her pistol held out in front of her should she need it. A fetid odor hung in the air, blending with the dank, moldy smell of the old drain. Her hand came down on something cold and gooey. She yanked her hand back and wiped it on the side of the drain, getting rid of the worst of the ooze. Taking out her flashlight and cupping her hand around it to minimize the light, she shined it on the floor. A rotting arm laid there, the flesh almost completely liquefied.
Nice, she thought. At least I know why it stinks in here. She wondered if more stray body parts waited up ahead.
She crawled another twenty feet until she finally put her hand down onto…nothing. A portion of the floor a good two feet across had fallen away. Her light revealed that the fissure dropped down a few feet to an air duct that had been torn open. She wondered if the first oborot she had encountered had escaped this way, or if it had been released for a purpose.
She didn’t love the idea of climbing into an air duct, but if an oborot could pass through without getting stuck or bringing the vent crashing down, so could she. It was crucial, however, that she did not wind up in the middle of their holding pen or whatever place it was they called home. Holding her finger on the trigger of her Mark 23, she slithered head first down into the vent. Up ahead, the way was lit by the glow of light shining through vents in the bottom of the duct. Careful to make no noise, she crept up to the first vent and peered through.
A slender man in a lab coat leaned in close to a computer monitor, blocking her view of the screen. He was muttering something. She strained to hear what he was saying, and made out the words, “Where is she?”
“You still haven’t located her?” A deep voice called from somewhere out of sight. She gritted her teeth, recognizing the voice of the man who had taunted her while trying to kill her with his sicko rides.
“No, but there are plenty of places she could hide. I’ll keep watching.”
“Let me know when she resurfaces. I want to take her out before she makes it out of the city.”
The man at the computer turned around to face the speaker, giving her a clear view of his face. He was young, perhaps in his late twenties, clean-cut—the stereotypical laboratory squint. Only his eyes, sparkling with a dark, twisted zeal, marred his otherwise benign appearance. “She’s already taken out our entire security detail. Watch yourself.”
Queen grinned. That was a helpful bit of information.
“She won’t find me so easy to deal with.” The voice was so smug and self-assured that Queen had to fight the sudden urge to kick the vent loose, drop down into the
middle of the room, and take him on right then and there. Play it smart. They don’t know you’re here, so use that to your advantage.
She heard footsteps as the second man walked away, and the young squint turned back to his computer. Satisfied she wouldn’t hear anything else of value here, at least not right away, she moved farther down the shaft.
The next vent overlooked a hallway. She couldn’t see far enough in either direction to discern if it would be a safe place to exit, so she kept moving. Finally she came to a vent above a small storage room. The walls were lined with shelves packed with a variety of chemicals and laboratory supplies. She quickly took hold of the vent cover with both hands and tested it. It was held in place by clips that slid free with the scantest scrape of metal on metal, though in the silence it sounded to Queen like a car crash. Setting the vent aside, she dropped nimbly into the room…
…just as the door opened.
A balding man with graying temples walked in. He was staring down at a clipboard and did not see her until she thrust her gun in his face and pressed her free hand over his mouth. He gave a muffled whimper and let the clipboard clatter to the floor. Behind his thick glasses, his eyes, wide with fright, gave him the look of a startled owl.
“Do you speak English?” she whispered. The man nodded. “If you answer my questions and don’t try to call for help, I’ll let you live. You do anything at all I don’t like, you die slowly and painfully. Got it?”
Callsign: Queen - Book I (A Zelda Baker - Chess Team Novella) Page 6